From Dusk to Dawn
by ThornDraconis
Summary: He had never given much thought to the difference between dusk and dawn - it had always looked the same to him. Dark swallowing Light. Light swallowing Dark. Now, however, he saw all the difference in the world. Ben Solo must come to terms with himself and Rey is going to help him do just that.
1. One

_"I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul." ― Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets_

X

It was cold. Dark. Quiet. He did not know whether he was still alive.

Maybe he was. Maybe he was not. Maybe afterlife was really about staring indefinitely at the darkness and feeling a void fill in every corner of his… was it his _body_? He did not know what one had after they perished, what their case turned into... Because that was what they all had, wasn't it? A shell, a feeble and temporary carapace that served the dimmest of purposes. He wondered whether he had ever given a second thought about what came next, but that thought seemed almost childlike. Yet, as the growing suspicion that he was dead seemed ever more plausible, it crossed his mind that being dead was in one word, boring.

For a split second, he felt his lids flutter as a small breeze rushed across his existence. He tried moving what he suspected were his eyes and discovered that he could squeeze them shut. With the breeze came also the realization that he could still breathe as his chest filled in and out slowly. He decided to take a deep breath, test a bit further what exactly he could still do in death, however a surge of pain ignited through him and he thought that perhaps he was still there, somewhere, wherever that was. _But where? _A limbo? A checkpoint? A passage? A veil? So many words, such hollow meanings.

Even without an extensive knowledge about death, he was most certainly sure that dying was not meant to be like that.

Breathing, feeling, aching. If dying was like that, well, perhaps he had been dead all along.

Shaking that ridiculous conclusion off his thoughts, he tried reopening his eyes and discovered that he could still do that, though it seemed much more difficult than he… _remembered_? Did he remember anything? Did he actually know what he was doing there? Had he ever opened his eyes before? Had he ever done anything before? What exactly was before?

Maybe he had and maybe he knew where he was because as he took in his dark surroundings and tried to look past the rough silhouettes farther, a faint recollection of whom he was and where he was began forming in the back of his throbbing mind. Still, there was a thick fog numbing it as though he could not summon a single explanation as to how he had come to that point. The answers were at the tip of his… _tongue_? Was that the expression? Did that even make any sense when he was no longer there, when he had moved past his feeble existence and stared at the infinite void that was sure to envelop him forever?

But then again, he was not really dead, was he?

Logic told him that he was not, even if he was beside the point of explaining how he knew it.

He tried taking a deep breath again and another wave of piercing ache coursed straight into the middle of his chest. He remained still, seemingly unable to move when it occurred to him once again, stronger this time, that if he felt pain, that meant he still had a body. And if he still had a body, lying in that cold dark space was about the most irrational thing one could do especially without knowing where they were or what they were doing there for that matter. Testing what he thought were his hands and realizing that they worked, he raised his numbing arm, touched his sore chest and a small gasp escaped his mouth.

If he could feel, see, talk, touch, if he still had a body, then he most certainly was not dead at all.

The vague feeling of detachment vanquished at once upon this realization and suddenly he was very aware of the sharp pain he felt in every corner of his body. Breathing was like having scorching lava flow inside his chest and his lungs screamed at the effort, sending jolts of stars in front of his eyes. His body trembled as a particularly nasty breeze rushed over it and the soreness in one of his legs weighted down on him. It was pain unlike anything he had ever experienced before, though he was not exactly sure whatever it was _he had_ experienced before. His brain seemed frozen, clouded, unable to summon any recollection as to whom he was and what had happened to him.

Something seemed to hover above his body, a feeling he could not quite decipher. Dark and light at the same time.

He took one, two, three deep breaths and then his brain was splitting open with a gush of memories.

His father. His mother. Her. _Rey_.

He felt much more focused at once, the certainty of what he was doing there and who he was clearer than ever. And as that understanding dawned upon him, so did a surge of panic.

He turned around abruptly, his body aching hard with the effort, and tried to put himself up. His leg thumped, broken, unable to sustain his weight. His ribs throbbed, and he was absolutely sure that his lungs would go out next. Breathing now seemed like an impossible feat, one that sent more jolts of stars to his eyes. His head felt so goddamn heavy, hammering harder than ever before, but his thoughts and decisions had never seemed so clear. His hands had never felt steadier. His resolution had never seemed so unwavering.

The Knights of Ren. Palpatine. Her. _Rey_.

His father. His mother. Her. _Rey_.

He knew he was barely holding together. He knew that the end was near. He knew that the one thread, the only fabric keeping him there were them – his mother's sacrifice and _her_. Rey.

Everything hurt so fucking bad. His body, his mind, his chest, his bones, his _heart__? _Yes, even that, that beating organ he had tried so hard to suppress, the very thing he had once heard prevented him from greatness. Oh, and the pain. Everything hurt so, so much. He knew that that was the side effect of having a maniac drain your Force, energy and fluids and then throw you out violently off a cliff to die. But he hadn't. He couldn't. He wouldn't. Not when _she_ needed him.

It was the vivid memory of her look of surprise and gratitude through their Force connection as she realized that he had come to help that ignited him to climb the edge of that cliff. It was the memory of her gleaming brown eyes as her light saber suddenly appeared in his hands and he fought the Knights of Ren that poured through his body and enabled him to drag his body up the edge. It was the feeling of her close presence beside him as they stared at Palpatine that made him overlook the excruciating agony that throbbed in every corner of his body and propelled him forward. Slowly, so slowly, but onwards all the same.

Life almost slipped out his body when he found himself staring at a small lump at a distance. Immediately, he tried using their Force connection to feel her presence, that bond he had both loathed and treasured in equal measures. He knew that it had not worked even before he got no answer.

She was _gone_.

_Gone_.

Something inside him split in two and then in millions of little specs and even the excruciating pain he felt while taking every breath seemed like nothing compared to the realization that that was Rey's lifeless body. That she was _gone_.

That could not be. That was impossible.

Despair grew inside his chest, enveloping his every cell. Frantically, as something heavy awoke inside him, something dark and heavy and full of shadows, he tried to get up and fell, hit his jaw hard on the ground and tasted blood inside his mouth. Panting, grunting, ignoring how his eyes screamed with agony, how breathing felt like drowning, how his chest burned, he dragged himself forward, scratching the ground, trying to grab ahold of anything to sustain his weight and propel him forward, mustering every ounce and every fiber of his body to obey his pleading commands and get to her, help her, hold her, _do something_.

The dark tendrils threatening to encapsulate him were getting closer. He heard their whispers close, clear. The endless void, the infinite dark was clinging to his feet, touching his skin seductively, tingling around his body, making promises of easing his pain forever.

It felt like an eternity, it consumed everything he had in himself and everything he did not. He gritted his teeth, tasted blood and bile, ignored that unbearable pain even though every millimeter he moved brought him closer to the end. But he could not reach the end without her, without seeing her again, without looking at her face once more and _doing something_.

He forced himself to focus on the memory of her eyes – those eyes that had looked at him in so many different ways. Dark, light, hard, soft, angry, relieved, sad, happy, confused, resolute, stubborn, determined. Those very eyes he would never get to see again…

He did not know how, but he finally reached her body and shock, grief, anger, hatred, pain and a thousand of other emotions he could not even name hit him hard at once when he gazed at her lifeless figure and vacant eyes. Darkness crept in.

Rey was staring at nothing, her face pale, her body cold, her eyes _gone_. He barely realized what he was doing, he barely had time to wonder how much longer he still had in that world. He pulled her to his lap, held her firm in his arms and embraced her as if she was the most precious thing he had ever seen in that galaxy, every memory of their every conversation, fight, discussion, understanding surging through his brain as though he was forever stuck in that heartbreaking moment.

The scavenger. The apprentice. The enemy. The friend. _Rey_.

"_I did want to take your hand. Ben's hand…"_

It seemed forever ago that Rey had spoken those words. It seemed forever ago that she had Force healed him, that he had felt her energy, her Force rush through his body and flow through his cells, filling him with something he had never felt before. It seemed forever ago that he had finally understood what she had meant when she told him there was still Light inside him. It seemed forever ago that he had finally seen what she had seen all along. Who he was – who he truly was.

"_You are no one. But not to me."_

He had told her that before, maybe a lifetime ago, and he had meant every word. Not because he thought he knew who she was back then, but because beneath her blood and her past, he truly saw her for who she was. And he knew that he was the only person in that entire galaxy who knew who she was too.

"_I did want to take your hand. Ben's hand…"_

Darkness crept in closer.

He lulled Rey against his body, cradling to her figure with trembling hands and a broken heart, ignoring the stinging feeling in his eyes as he stared at her unresponsive figure and wondered angrily why it had taken so long for him to turn. She had seen his internal struggle, how torn he felt, how he had split himself to his core and bone, and she had offered to help more than once. She was always so kind, so gentle and it had angered him so much that she was still capable of being like that even though all she had ever known was pain, hunger, loneliness.

He had never hated himself so much, he had never loathed his cowardice, his second guesses and his weakness as goddamn hard as he did in that very moment, those final moments, _his_ final moments. He could have come earlier, helped her, prevented her death. But he hadn't. He had willingly resorted to darkness, to bitterness and resentment and in doing so, taken much, much longer to finally admit to what he had known all along, back when he had first met her.

That she was _the one_. _His_ _one_. _His__ equal_.

The feeling of her hands, her soft touch as she healed him earlier that day was too much to bear.

He closed his eyes, feeling embarrassed as that burning feeling finally conquered him and a single tear that seemed to encompass a world of pain streamed down his face.

He had to try _something_. He could not simply sit there and allow her to be gone, not when Rey clearly had so much more to offer to that world than he did. His life had always been a waste and coming to that conclusion did not seem to anger him like it had always done. If anything, in that very moment, accepting that perhaps his life had never amounted to anything was like a balm to his pain, an answer to his pleas.

Light crept in.

The longer he stared at her vacant eyes, the clearer the answer became.

He _had_ to try. He _had_ to do something. And perhaps he knew what to do and he knew he was willing to go to that extent for her, yet he did not know whether he had the strength to do it.

"_I know what I have to do, but I don't know if I have the strength to do it_."

How many times had that single sentence haunted him ever since he had first spoken it? How many times had he gone over that scene over and over and over again until it was branded inside his brains? How many times had he questioned his strength, his resolution, his determination? Although he knew he had finally managed to find an answer to that question, he once again saw himself staring at it with glistening eyes and a broken heart.

Dark crept in… But so did Light.

He knew he had to seek for that precise spot, that place where Dark met Light. The perfect balance. He had never believed in such a thing, the very thought of finding that balance had seemed so farfetched, absurd and silly that it seemed only ironic that at the very end, he would have to resort to that. Yet, he had learned at a very high cost that he had been wrong about _everything_. He knew he had to look _inward_ to be able to go _onward_, but looking _inward_ had always shown him his worst – how weak he was, how broken he was.

Still, he had to try. It was her only chance. It was his only choice. His _one_ choice.

He was ready to face the consequences, much readier than before. He used to believe he had the strength and the spirit to do whatever he wanted to do. Right now, as he watched Rey's dead body, he knew he had never had it in him until the moment he had met her. And even back then, he had gotten it all wrong.

He could feel Dark creep in closer as he grieved. But looking at her brought Light closer than ever.

And just as earlier that day when he had decided to go after Rey, he _knew _what he had to do.

Blinking the tears away, he pulled her closely, his trembling hand finding her stomach and lying there. He once again ignored the burning sensation in his eyes. He once again ignored that pain in his chest that had nothing to do to his broken ribs. He once again ignored the soreness in his broken leg. He once again mustered everything to overlook that throbbing agony enveloping his whole body. He could not, would not let her die. He could not allow someone like her to simply _not be there_ anymore. It was not fair for her to be gone when someone like him was still there.

He forced himself to think of _them_, to think of _her_ and summon whatever Light he still had in him, that very Light she had always inspired in him, that very Light she had seen in him from the moment they had met. And it amazed him how naturally those thoughts came to him and how they filled his chest, his mind, his _heart_. Memories of their Force Connections, of her pleading look that he would turn, of her honest confessions about her pain, of her raw feelings of loneliness and how she too knew he was the only one who got her, spluttered inside him and entangled around his core, warming his chest and easing the whispering dark voices inside his head. He could feel whatever was left of him leave his fingertips and flow through her cold body.

Dark crept in, but so did Light.

He found himself at a loss of words to explain exactly how that felt like. The only thing he knew was that it was Force like he had never experienced before. And as it left his body, he felt his own flame begin to extinguish too.

He knew it had worked before she exhaled and stirred in place.

He swallowed a big lump in his throat, exhaled sharply as well and allowed his eyes to drink her expression of shock and confusion, savor the warmth of her closeness and thank whoever was listening that he had managed to do at least one good thing in his life that made his existence worthwhile.

And even in the certainty that these were his final moments, he could not help but realize how beautiful she looked when she smiled even in the midst of chaos and certain death and how much listening to her say _his name_ warmed his chest.

"Ben…"

Her soft lips were capturing his before he had found the courage to do so.

A thousand words travelled through that kiss. A thousand stars exploded inside his chest.

He thought dying was really worth it if that was going to be the last thing he did before giving in to the enveloping darkness and falling to an infinite abyss of nothing forever. Dark had crept in, but so had Light. The perfect balance. And in doing so, he had brought her back.

_Rey_.

He could not contain the first smile that stretched across his features as he contemplated how thankful he was that she was going to be the last thing he was going to see before he left that world for good. His body grew colder, his face grew paler, but he held her close all the same.

"Ben?"

Rey had obviously realized what was going on and he sustained his smile even when her forehead wrinkled and her lips parted with understanding and panic, even when her soft hand holding his face clutched him as though begging him to stay. He sustained his smile though it costed everything in him to push himself forward, to insist on staying there for just a little while, to hear the sound of her voice for just a little while, to bask in the color of her eyes, to feel her warm embrace and the touch of her skin.

"It's okay," he managed to mouth numbly, tracing her face with his fingertips and smiling. It really was very easy to smile even if he did not even remember the last time he had done so.

"I can't allow you to do that, Ben," Rey argued in a desperate voice, pushing away the hand he kept firmly in her stomach to send his life Force to her and the soreness that had spread across his chest was interrupted abruptly. The connection was gone. "Stay with me."

"Let me go, Rey. You're not strong enough. You're barely here. Let me finish it," he tried moving his hand once again, but she pushed it away stubbornly.

"I _am _here," she pressed, her expression unyielding. "You brought me back."

"Barely, Rey. You know I'm right."

"Why? Why do you suddenly feel like pulling something heroic, Ben?"

"I am not worth it, Rey. You, on the other hand, are."

"It's not your place to say it," she cut him, touching his face tentatively. "I am not going anywhere, Ben. And so aren't you."

"Rey…"

"There's still plenty of Force for the both of us," she mumbled, placing her hand in his face and lowering her forehead till it was touching his, another set of thousand unspoken words flowing through them. She closed her eyes and inhaled his scent, his proximity, basking in the gratitude she felt that he of all people was the one there with her, the one who had come after her, the one who had turned.

"Rey, _please_," he pleaded, his eyes begging for her to understand.

"No, Ben, _please_," she insisted, locking eyes with him and smiling kindly. "Feel it, Ben."

He felt it. Oh, Stars, he really, really felt it. The Force. The Dark. The Light. He knew she was right.

Dark had crept in, but so had Light. The Force had awakened inside him once more. She was still there and so was him.

"You said I was not alone. You aren't alone either. Stay with me, Ben. _Please_."

Ben was kissing her again before he could control himself and the feeling was as unique as she was. It was like life was filling him in again, as if that life Force he had used to relive her was enveloping his existence again in spite of almost ebbing away. It had made him _more alive_ if that was even possible. To his core, to his bone, to his soul, to his heart. Their bond… he had already realized the extent of it, how undeniable, unbreakable, unwavering it was. He had already concluded that what they shared was beyond anything he could begin to comprehend and that it was one of those things one could not simply fight against. As he tasted her lips, embraced her in the middle of nowhere, relished how close she was, the inevitability of her presence in his life seemed stronger than ever.

Suddenly, leaving that world behind seemed the most unreasonable thing he could do.

"I knew you would come, Ben," she whispered, smiling with glistening eyes and a world of unspoken feelings at him.

"It was not you who had to take my hand after all, Rey," he spoke in that deep baritone voice of his, touching her face as if to test if she was still there and that she was real.

Thankfully, she was.

X

**A/N:** it goes without saying that I did not like the end of TROS and decided to write my own version. Ben Solo deserved better, that's all, and hopefully I will be able to show my take on that. I had been wanting to write a Reylo piece since TLJ but for some reason, I kept digging and digging for an idea and it never came. Turned out that all I needed was for something like _that_ to happen to my favorite character. Anyway, I hope you like it. Let me know your thoughts.


	2. Two

_"The strongest of all warriors are these two — Time and Patience." ― Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace_

X

_"Uncle Luke?"_

_"Yes, Ben?"_

_"Is it true you flew one of these?" he asked, showing the book he held in his tiny hands to the man sitting in front of him._

_"Yes, it is," the man answered with a nod and a smile. "It's called X-wing."_

_"Yes, I know," the small kid grinned smugly before embarking on a thorough explanation of everything – both special and ordinary – about that ship._

_"How do you know all of that?" Luke asked, raising his eyebrows in honest surprise._

_"I just read a lot," Ben shrugged, closing the book with a thud and looking at his own lap, and Luke smiled gently at his nephew. "There's not much to do around."_

_Luke's smile faded briefly, and he began studying the boy quietly as Ben picked on the hem of his sleeves with an expression that was meant to belong to the face of a much older person._

_"So you can be a pilot _and_ a Jedi, Uncle Luke?" he spoke again after some minutes. _

_"Yes, you can."_

_"And do you think I could fly one of those too?"_

_"Of course you could, buddy. You'd be a natural, it's in your blood," he explained, encouragingly._

_Ben raised his anxious eyes and beamed at his Uncle._

_"Then I want to be a Jedi _and_ a pilot," he announced, his eyes sparkling with excitement and he immediately got to his feet and grabbed one of his toys as if to portray how that would look like. "I will get to have all sorts of missions, explore the entire galaxy, have a cool jacket like Dad's _and_ Mom and Dad would not be afraid of me anymore."_

_Ben apparently had no idea of what he had just said for he frowned at the thunderous silence that fell in the middle of the room and watched Luke's stunned expression with furrowed brows._

_"Did I say something wrong, Uncle Luke?"_

_"Your parents are not afraid of you, Ben. Why would you say something like that?"_

_"Yes, they are, Uncle Luke. That's why Dad is never around, Mom works all the time and they always fight when he's here," the little boy explained gloomily, lowering his brown eyes once again and sitting on the floor, the toy held clumsily in his hands. "I wouldn't mind being just a pilot, though. Maybe Dad would take me on missions with him and Chewie. He doesn't like Jedi very much, except for you, Uncle Luke."_

_"Ben…"_

_"You can tell me the truth, Uncle Luke," the boy clenched his jaw proudly, but his eyes had watered and there was a slight pout to his full lips. "I'm already six, I'm not a little baby anymore."_

_"Your parents love you very much, Ben," Luke kneeled in front of his nephew, a pleading look in his eyes. "You're not the reason Han is not around. You're not the reason your Mom works so much."_

_"I heard them talking about me, Uncle Luke," Ben lowered his voice to nothing more than a whisper, the sparkle in his eyes morphing from sadness to resentment and then anger. "They think I'm different. They think I'm crazy."_

_"They don't!" Luke exclaimed, sounding a little upset right now, but Ben kept watching him skeptically. "Yes, you _are_ different! You are six years old and you are already Force sensitive, buddy. You can do things none of the kids can do at your age. But that doesn't mean they don't love you or think you're crazy or are afraid of you. That's why they want _you_ to train with _me_, so I can teach you how to control this power, harness the Force."_

_"I don't want anything to do with this stupid Force!" the boy yelled, staying up and balling his fists to his side. He threw his toy across the room where it smashed against the wall and fell in pieces on the floor. "I just want my Mom and Dad!"_

_He stormed off the room and left his Uncle alone to his own thoughts._

"Is everything alright?"

"That's _his_, isn't it?" Ben shook away his reminiscences and asked in a clipped tone.

Rey had never felt so tired in her entire life. There had been one day many years ago when she had gone scavenging and had gotten lost after a nasty sandstorm. She had been used to them, of course, but had failed to notice this one when she had stumbled upon some wreckage that her troubled mind had assumed belonged to the ship her parents had taken the day they had left her. Years later, she had wondered how she had managed to survive and although now she knew the answer, the fact that she had almost died still haunted her nightmares every now and then. It had taken her three days to find her way back home – she had starved, spent almost two days without any water, hallucinated, contemplated taking desperate measures, cried more than she would like to admit, peed herself, hit the lowest of lows. The moment she had stepped foot inside her makeshift home, however, she had never felt so grateful to be there. Every part of her body hurt, every bone, every muscle, every cell. She had felt so excruciatingly tired that she had passed out at once and woken up the next day feeling as though she had aged a century.

Clearly, she should have kept that impression to herself because _right now_ she knew how being tired really felt like.

If she closed her eyes, she could still see that face that was sure to haunt her nightmares forever. The hum of voices from those who had come to her aid were also still buzzing in the back of her mind. And yet, despite physical pain, clouded thoughts and a heavy mind, she had forced herself to move forward. Ben had clung to her looking just as tired. Still, as she helped him walk and almost carried a man that was about twice as tall and heavy as she was, she could not help but bask in the feeling of relief and _wholeness _inside her chest.

A dyad in the Force. Two that were one.

That very bond that had brought them closer had now restored her back to life.

Rey could feel the Force encircling them, the inevitability of their connection more evident than before. She knew it connected them now to extents that had never been charted before, to new horizons that no one had ever ventured to explore. It was part of him just as much as it was part of her. She had given him part of her, and he had given her part of him. Simple as that.

A dyad in the Force. Two that were one.

Rey had felt Ben's presence the moment he had landed in the Sith Citadel. She had witnessed his resolve as he ran desperately after her, his steadfast resolution as he fought the Knights of Ren first with a blaster and then with his own bare hands. And then when their Force connection had rung again, it was an experience she was unlikely to forget. He had felt so, so different than any other times their bond had called upon. No second guesses, no questions, just a raw feeling of wholeness that had surged back to her every core and stirred the courage, the sheer bravery and determination she needed to carry on.

She had seen his face clear as the day and just by gazing at his eyes she knew _it_. They looked ever so peaceful, whole, earnest. And it had always been his eyes who had given in. What she had _suspected_ upon meeting him she had _known_ the moment he had taken off his mask and it was all because of his eyes.

Those haunted, melancholic, troubled, tortured brown eyes. Those eyes that had conveyed his most intimate feelings only for her – feelings of loneliness, despair, neglect, fear, powerlessness, loss, misery and conflict. And beneath them, crumbled somewhere that not even he knew existed, a crave for _hope_, an urge to _believe_, a desperate yearn to be _free_.

Leia had told her not to ever be afraid of who she was. And even though perhaps that was meant to speak about her lineage, she knew exactly who she was right now. Someone who hoped. Someone who never gave up. Someone who would always try and help and do and act and insist whenever there was _a chance, something_ to fight for regardless of how small it was. It was exactly why she had believed Ben. It was exactly why she had chosen not to give up on him. It was exactly why she had _known_ _it_ from the moment she had seen his eyes.

And now, upon gazing at those pools, she saw the embodiment of conflict once more.

They had walked in silence, slowly, very slowly. Ben was badly injured – sustaining a broken leg, fractured ribs and a number of gashes and bruises in his face and torso. Rey, though her injuries were much less evident on the outside than Ben's, knew that she too was hanging by a thread. He had tried to start a conversation twice, ask her how she was feeling, how she had managed to defeat Palpatine but seeing how his face twisted painfully at the effort of walking, talking and breathing at the same, Rey had shook her head and told him she would answer later. She had clutched his hand a little tighter hoping to warm him up and erase the look of disappointment that flashed in his eyes.

Upon arriving outside, it had not taken them much time to figure out that none of their ships were equipped to take them both at once. They had debated for some time what to do, both of them had offered to go alone and come back with a larger ship, both of them had replied that the idea was ludicrous, both of them had folded their arms, huffed and kept quiet while their minds tried to come up with a cleverer plan, both of them had opened and closed their mouths more than once until Rey finally made a suggestion that had silence fall heavy between them.

Rey did not know why, but Ben somehow agreed with her plan to send their coordinates to the Resistance and call for their aid. She suspected he had agreed because he was simply too tired and too injured to argue, which she thought was a bad sign as it meant he truly needed help as soon as possible. Now, they were sitting on the floor and waiting, Ben's eyes staring at something behind her back.

"Yes, it is Luke's," she confirmed, following his gaze.

He stiffened upon hearing that name, a flash of green light flashing in his memory as he thought about the man. He kept his gaze firm on the ship, unaware of the way Rey was studying him silently as if she was trying to say something to him.

"Ben?"

"Who did you send the coordinates to?," he forced himself to ask and push that turmoil aside.

"Finn," she answered quickly, surprised at the change of subject.

"FN 2187?"

"His name is Finn," Rey corrected him immediately.

He looked skeptically at Rey and bit back on his tongue, refraining from adding that the former Stormtrooper was also a despicable traitor, though he suspected he too could be labeled that way now. Funny how everything was a matter of time and perspective.

"So I suppose you wouldn't mind being called Kylo Ren, then?" she shot back knowingly.

Trust Rey to be the only person to call him on his own bullshit.

"Fair enough," he gave in with a deep sigh and she grinned mischievously at him.

Ben resumed staring at his- _Luke Skywalker_'s beloved ship, very aware now of the way Rey kept stealing glances at him. He knew she was probably eager to let him know that he had not meant to kill him back then, that her Jedi Master regretted resorting to the Dark side if only for a brief moment of weakness and that he still had loved him very much. He could not help but snort at his own assessment. Fucking bullshit.

"Ben?" she called once more, hesitantly.

"So you suppose the Resistance will help _me_?" he drawled more bitterly than he meant, desperate to keep their talk away from that particular topic.

"Finn will help first and ask questions later," she answered with a heavy sigh, studying his profile and the shape of his clenched jaw. In one of her first quarrels with Ben, she had wondered if it had been carved out of the same stone that they had used to carve his heart. She knew she was wrong. "It's why I asked him to come alone."

"And then what?"

"We will figure it out."

He nodded just for the sake of acknowledging her answer for the truth was that he was not so quite sure what would happen once they arrived at the Resistance basecamp and everyone saw former Supreme Leader Kylo Ren with their hero Rey. There were three reasons why he had agreed to that plan: he was simply too tired to argue that it was a bad idea, he was too injured to fly by himself and it was the only way he could stay with Rey. He honestly did not care where that brought him to – even the prospect of going back to her home planet in the middle of that forgotten desert sounded delightful if it meant that she was going to be there too. Yet, he was fairly mindful of everything he had done against the Resistance during his tenure in the First Order. And he knew that they too would not let it go so easily.

But even though those thoughts should be the ones disturbing his mind right now, all he kept doing was stare at that fucking ship he had once longed to fly alongside the man he had once thought cared about him.

Rey watched his demeanor with worried eyes. Ben looked like the embodiment of conflict, his body so stiff and his face twisted with so much anger and bitterness as his brown eyes studied Luke's ship. He looked so different from the kind and gentle man he had been from the moment she had woken up. And she could feel _it_ too, the shift in his Force, the dark tendrils approaching him ever so carefully and silently and threatening to disturb the bond that they cherished so much.

She was not stupid to assume that Ben was ready to move on and overlook a lifetime of conflicted and tortured feelings. She knew he had turned, but that was only the beginning of a long journey of self-discovery and atonement. Rey scratched her jaw pensively and wondered if he knew what lied ahead. Stars, not even _she _knew what lied ahead.

Rey found herself reaching tentatively for Ben's hand. She was not even sure what she wanted to convey. That everything was going to be alright? That help was coming? That there was nothing for him to be afraid of? Yes, she believed in all of those things and she knew that they were true, but they sounded so hollow, so meaningless, so helpless given the storm she could sense forming on his insides.

Ben had vouched to kill the past. Yet, he could not bring himself to do that. And the longer he stared at Luke Skywalker's ship, the angrier he felt. That man, the one who was supposed to be one of the most powerful men in the entire galaxy, had proven to be _nothing_. Instead of helping him, he had only instilled in Ben the perception that there was definitely something wrong about him. His eyes had always been veiled, laced with suspicions. His pieces of advice had never amounted to anything except making Ben feel even more confused about what was going on, about who he was. He had never been honest about why his Mom replied so vaguely and so rarely to the letters he sent her on a weekly basis when Jedi Training had started. He had never admitted to his nephew that his friend Han Solo simply did not want to be a parent and would rather embark on pesky, juvenile adventures with a Wookie. He had never explained why Ben heard those voices, where they came from, who they belonged to. He had never explained what exactly Ben should be thinking of when he did those dull meditation sessions during his training. He had never shared his old adventures, his tales or the fabulous stories about the past Jedi. He had never helped him, guided him. He had never been who he was supposed to be. He had never taught him how to fly that ship…

"He was just a man, Ben," Rey muttered, tracing the contour of his hand softly.

"He was supposed to be more than that, Rey," he replied, watching how her index finger traced each one of his fingers and then began drawing circles on the back of his hand.

"Men fail, Ben. Jedi Master, that's just a silly title."

"He was supposed to be more than just a man," he repeated, his neck strained with anger.

There was so, so much more he wanted to say about Luke Skywalker, reprimanded feelings that he had never dared say aloud, not even during those times he had lay his soul bare to Rey. Nonetheless, his anger was so raw, so brutal that he could not summon the strength to allow the words to flow. They lay stuck, forming a big and acid lump that was crawling up his neck, grappling tight with his throat and it was like drowning in a sea of unspoken words. He wanted to scream, his chest felt heavy, his broken ribs pressed heavily against his torso, his lungs ached with every breath he took. He felt so, so tired, but could not shake the feeling of anger that kept pushing every wound of his as if blowing that out could somehow purge all the pain he felt.

But the words would just not come out, they refused to come, so they kept eating his insides, poisoning him and he watched the X-wing helplessly as his mind raced across every memory he had of the man who he had once called Uncle Luke.

"I had heard stories about him when I was a child, about the Jedi, about these adventures. I thought he was a Myth, a legend and that the Jedi did not even exist, but I was so fascinated by it. With my parents gone, I turned to these tales to find some sort of solace. Eventually I found out that they were real and I was so, so happy, if only for a moment. But I… I was wrong. When I met him, he was nothing more than a hermit, he was running away from everything. There was no courage, just shame and regret," she explained, taking now his other hand and beginning the same routine of tracing each finger of his with her index finger. He watched her silently, a wrinkle between his brows as he followed her movements. "I asked, _begged_ for his help. He refused. And even when he finally started training me, I honestly don't believe he was really there."

She had reached his little finger and then formed a circle between her thumb and index finger and started encircling each of his fingers, her eyebrows knitted in concentration. He realized that the big lump on his throat had all but melted away as he focused on the feeling of her touch against his skin.

"What exactly are you trying to say?"

"I don't know. Just that maybe he had flaws like every one of us. That perhaps he thought he was doing his best, but still did not know what to do. Because, after all, he was just a man. I could sense his suspicions about me too when he trained me in Ahch-To. He felt misguided by the Jedi, thought they were responsible for the ascension of the First Order, the Sith. He too was embedded in conflict because what he did to you split him to the bone."

"Yet, he did not regret it, Rey. He did not regret it. If anything, he wanted to have gone till the end."

"Perhaps," she conceded, and he looked so baffled that she was not defending the integrity of her Master that he looked up and met her eyes. Was she really that beautiful or did he have that impression because she had almost died? He cursed himself; of course it was the former. "He was wrong, though. There was Light in you, Ben. There _is_ Light in you."

"You are saying I should forgive him, then?"

"If you want to, that's entirely up to you," Rey retorted, intertwining their fingers, eyes locked on his and a kind smile in her face. "What I'm saying is that you should let go, move on. You talk about letting the past die, killing it, but drenching in it until hatred and anger consume you, that's precisely the opposite of letting the past go away."

Ben watched her face silently, their bond pulsing around them. It filled him in again, made him whole, cast the darkness away.

"What exactly would you have me do, then? Pretend that nothing has ever happened?"

"Of course not. Part of healing means dealing with your past, mending it. But there's a difference between doing that and allowing it to control you. Give it time. And have patience. Only these _two_ will help you move past it. I know you have it in you, Ben."

Ben rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand and contemplated her expression. He had once heard his Dad say that he had the eyes of someone who had already lived long beyond their years. Rey, on the other hand, looked the opposite of that. In spite of everything she had gone through, this world had still not branded her. There was a sparkle in her eyes, some eagerness and a little stubbornness that he had so rarely seen in his life. It was _hope_.

He had convinced himself that hope was precisely why he had vouched to hate her so much. Ben knew he should be thankful, though, because it was her hope that had saved him after all.

"I think that's our ride, Ben."

Ben looked up just in time to see a ship he had not stepped foot inside in so, so long.

X

**A/N:** first of all, thank you so much to everyone who followed, favorited and reviewed the first chapter! I am so glad you guys liked my take on the ending of TROS and hopefully the second chapter lives up to your expectations. Thank you to the lovely reviews from Sherona849, Taylor323, tilvy19it, ToughSpirit and Holly Drinkwater. They warmed my heart! Oh, and by the way, this isn't the last time they are going to talk about Luke Skywalker. Much lies ahead and this is just the beginning of the road. Please let me know your thoughts.


	3. Three

_"Melancholy is sadness that has taken on lightness."__ ― __Italo Calvino_

X

Whenever a storm approaches, the signs can be seen and felt from afar – slowly and then at once. It gets colder, the air gets heavier, the surroundings get darker, everything goes quiet. The silence that precedes chaos. A moment of quiet before violence, mayhem and destruction. Yet, there are some very special occasions in which an imminent storm end ups building up to _nothing_ and just as abruptly and quietly as it appears, it ebbs away, its evidences nothing more than a pale grey sky, hushed reminiscences and silent ruminations.

Ben could feel a storm coming from his insides the moment his eyes saw the Millennium Falcon hovering above their heads. The atmosphere immediately grew colder, heavier, darker, quieter. A moment of silence before chaos. He clutched Rey's hands firmer and felt her squeezing back, yet his eyes failed to notice the guilt drenched in every curve of her face and the pleading look in her brown eyes. Instead, his brown pools were glued at the ship, anticipation building on his insides as he waited for the looming mayhem.

Fear. Resentment. Bitterness. Anger. Hatred. Pain. Guilt. Regret.

It was there. It was coming, he knew it was. He could feel it. _Reckoning_. Only that it did not come.

No matter how hard he stared at the Millennium Falcon, _nothing_ happened.

Not a single thought, not a faint reaction, not the simplest of responses. _Nothing_.

He inhaled and exhaled deeply. One. Two. _Three_ times. Yes, Ben knew he was _three_ years old the one and only time he had ever stepped foot inside his Dad's treasured Millennium Falcon. He expected those thoughts to come to him, he waited for them – Han Solo, his Dad – because there was absolutely nothing else in that universe capable of encapsulating those memories than that ship. However, nothing else came to his mind. Not the simplest of thoughts or the subtlest of reactions. His mind had reached a sort of stupor, a blank state of trance, a halt. Ben Solo stood there watching its pale grey aspect, listening to its hushed reminiscences and silent ruminations.

Ben frowned, tilted his head to the side, swallowed hard and… _nothing_. _Nothing_. Nothing! He counted to three once again, waiting for _something_ to happen, _anything_, but all he got was _nothing_. He raised his right hand and clutched his left wrist, searching for a pulse. Yes, he was there, he had not yet been deprived of his pitiful existence. Nevertheless, the feeling of displacement, that haze that seemed to have taken over his mind pulsed impenetrably in front of his eyes. That imminent chaos of memories drenched in pain and guilt and every existing dark feeling stood far from his reach and he was left to stare at it in silence.

It felt so ironic that when he expected, _needed_ those memories and that wave of overwhelmingness, they would not come out, yet they had uninvitedly troubled his nightmares and even his daydreams for the past years. Perhaps it was once again because he was simply too tired and too injured to think straightly, though he wondered for a moment if it wasn't simply the universe conspiring to teach him a lesson.

"Rey!"

Ben barely registered how Rey leapt to her feet and rushed as fast as she could to meet one of her closest friends. The hint of jealously that hit his chest at the sight of their warm embrace seemed more of an afterthought as his brown eyes resumed studying the Millennium Falcon quietly.

The ship merely stared back at him, a white skeleton standing tall and regal in the middle of that rocky planet. And _nothing_, absolutely _nothing_. No trace of the impeding cold or the hindering heaviness, let alone the threatening darkness. No deafening silence. _Nothing_ happened. _Nothing._

His mind had reached a standstill. The storm had melted away.

He swallowed hard, breathed once, twice, thrice. Again. And again. It was not supposed to be that way. Fear. Resentment. Bitterness. Anger. Hatred. Pain. Guilt. Regret. It was supposed to be like _that_. Especially and particularly the latter, to a point where that feeling was so overwhelmingly painful that he would beg _something_ to make it fade away. And yet, no matter how hard he stared at that fucking ship, absolutely _nothing_ happened.

Fear. Resentment. Bitterness. Anger. Hatred. Pain. Guilt. Regret. They would just not come.

He was supposed to feel that. He was supposed to relish in those dark memories, to find solace in those hideous feelings, to reach that desolate reverie of despair and misery. He was supposed to relive everything that ship meant. There was nothing else he deserved but to relive everything that that ship – Han Solo's ship, his Dad's ship – was supposed to bring to his mind. And yet, in spite of his insistence that that storm washed him away, it felt nothing more than a forlorn breeze in the middle of an empty desert.

He kept watching the Millennium Falcon and waiting. One. Two. Three. He kept waiting and waiting and waiting. Waiting for that first time he had heard Dad fight with Mom. That time his Dad had declined Ben's wish to go with him, Chewie and Unca Wanwo on a mission. Every single time Han had disdained of Ben's wish to become a Jedi _and_ a pilot. Those times he had eavesdropped his parents saying he had too much darkness in him. That time he had destroyed the toys his Dad had just given him the day before with his bare hands because Han was leaving once again. That one time so, so many years ago he had finally discovered that they feared he would become like his grandfather. That time he had screamed at the top of his lungs how he wished Han was not his father. The last time he had seen his Dad before becoming Kylo Ren, the look of fear etched in his face. The day he had killed Han Solo. The first time he had cried silently at night, clutching at those desperate memories in the dark. And then the second, and the third and the thousandth. Those desperate times he had resorted to hurting himself hoping that pain and blood would wash his guilt and weakness away. The first time he had admitted _to Rey_ that he still saw his Dad in his nightmares. The day he had admitted _to himself_ how he regretted doing that. And then that last time he had seen his Dad.

"_Dad…_"

"_I know_."

Yet, _nothing_ happened. If anything, no matter how hard he watched the Millennium Falcon and waited, _craved_ for that outpour of feelings to whisk him away, they looked even more unreachable. The thoughts would just not come. The feelings – fear, resentment, bitterness, anger, hatred, pain, guilt, regret – would just not come. _Nothing_.

His chest was empty, his mind, blank. And he kept staring helplessly, hopelessly at the Millennium Falcon wondering what that meant. It was not indifference, though. It was not detachment. He was far too familiar with those notions to understand that whatever it was that was happening to him, it was not that. Had he gone insane? Had he lost his mind? Had he lost his ability to understand what was going on? But even in the midst of those questions, not even desperation dared come out and reach out to him. It was like he was left there to just watch and wait.

"Rey, what is _he_ doing here?"

Ben involuntarily raised his gaze and met FN 2187's glare above Rey's shoulder. The former Stormtrooper let go of her immediately and stepped forward, his eyes burning with contempt and one hand hovering above his blaster, but Rey stepped aside and blocked him, her back strengthened in a defiant stance. Ben summoned what he hoped was a blank expression, though he knew fairly well how his lips wanted to curl up in disdain and his features wanted to stretch in a sneer.

"He saved my life," she blurted out and Ben watched FN 2187's eyes widen in surprise before narrowing in obvious skepticism.

"He's controlling your mind, isn't he?". He tried to lower his voice to a whisper, but Ben had far too much experience reading other people's lips and he snickered at the words that formed in FN 2187's mouth, "Blink twice if I'm right."

"Finn, I need you to trust me. _Please_. Ben is badly injured and we need help. _He_ needs help. I asked you to come by yourself because I knew you would understand. Just trust me, alright? I can explain to you later," Rey spoke very quickly, holding her friend by his forearms so he would stop throwing daggers at his nemesis and instead looked at her.

"Ben?"

"Finn, _please_," she contended more firmly this time and even though her back was turned to him, Ben could envision perfectly the stubborn look she was certainly throwing at her friend.

Before he could refrain, Ben found himself counting to thirty until FN 2187 reluctantly let out a dramatic sigh and nodded, to which Rey reacted by throwing her arms around her friend. The hint of jealously was not much of an afterthought this time and Ben's fingers clutched a small rock beside him that he fortunately or unfortunately was simply too weak to crush at the moment. The feeling of displacement, that blank state of reverie, that strange stupor – it was still there.

"Come, Finn, help me walk him to the Falcon. He can't walk properly," she urged Finn, who kept studying Ben with guarded eyes and one hand above his blaster.

"Rey, where exactly are you planning to take him?"

"To the base," she replied, nonchalantly.

"Rey…"

"He needs help, Finn. Where else should we find it?"

"That's _Supreme Leader_ _Kylo Ren_ you're planning to take to the Resistance base, Rey!"

"That's _Ben Solo_," she corrected him, fiercely, and Ben felt a surge of gratitude warm his chest.

"That's who he claims to be right now, but I don't remember him doing that when he was busy killing ours and destroying the galaxy for the First Order," Finn countered, his jaw clenched angrily and he stopped as though considering once again whether Rey was being mind controlled by Kylo Ren; his hand clutched his blaster this time and Rey followed his movement.

"Finn, I don't want to, but I will knock you out and drag Ben to that ship by myself if that's the only way," she sounded very upset right now and Ben watched with pleasure FN 2187's frightened eyes widen at her tone.

"You can't be serious, Rey."

"I am," she confirmed, eyes locked with his, her back still strengthened obstinately. "Finn, you have to trust me. I will explain everything to you later. We don't have time right now. I need to help Ben. _Please_."

"They are not going to let him in," he insisted.

"They will," she argued with determination. "Ben's Leia's son. Han's son."

"Rey…"

"I know. _He_ knows. But he is and he needs help. Help us. Help _me_, Finn. Please."

"Fine," he agreed, letting out another deep exhale and Ben could see that there would be no second guesses this time. "I will help you. I trust you, Rey. You know I trust you with my life. I just hope you're not wrong this time."

"I am not."

Rey approached Ben with a confident smile and he tried to reciprocate it in a reassuring way, but the only thing he mustered at that point was a curt nod for his mind and his heart were not there anymore. With their voices gone, the turmoil he had been facing before seemed to have seized the opportunity to grasp his attention once again. He had a faint recollection of Rey kneeling in front of him and touching his face caringly while FN 2187 watched the display of affection with utter disbelief. Then, Rey was motioning for her friend to step closer and help her hoist Ben to his feet. He decided to avoid FN 2187's suspicious eyes and instead kept his own on the ground, simply too tired and too weak to flash him the annoyed scowl he wanted to.

His eyes were still lowered when he entered the Millennium Falcon and Rey and Finn sat him down. He breathed deeply once, twice, thrice, completely unaware of how both of them were looking at him with very different expressions in their faces. Ben felt his eyelids flutter before he could contain himself.

There was a pair of gold dice attached to a golden chain hanging on a knob near the control panel. He watched it with mesmerized eyes for a full minute, his heart beating anxiously inside his chest. Then, Ben found his tiny legs sauntering clumsily across the floor until they finally reached their destination. He stalled, eyes gleaming in anticipation. He stood at his tiptoes, his tongue sticking out his mouth as he tried to reach the dice. After some thirty seconds, his hands were grabbing at the chain, his face flushed with the effort. He turned around, sensing a mischievous expression spread across his face.

"There you go, kiddo."

Ben held his arms up and Han grabbed him, sitting him down on his lap, dice still in his hand.

"Wow," Ben breathed out, his mouth parted in amazement as he looked everywhere.

It looked like a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes. Everywhere he looked he found something extraordinary although he had absolutely no idea what they were. He had never seen so many colors or shapes, heard so many different sounds, felt so many different textures. And the place looked so majestic, so imposing with that control panel that was beyond his reach, those seats that looked like they could hug his entire body and that window through which he suspected he could see the entire universe as though he could just reach out and grab it.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

He felt his Dad ruffle through his hair, that inkjet hair that contrasted so greatly with his fair skin. He giggled and then leapt out of his lap, approaching the control panel once more, the dice still tucked inside his small hand. He looked up, turned around and drank in everything his eyes could find. Han snatched him up and showed the rest of the things that Ben's eyes could not find and his eyes grew wider and wider each second. He listened intently to every explanation of Han, clutching the gold dice with one hand and the collar of his Dad's jacket with another, the same way he did whenever Han lulled him to sleep when he was home.

"Are we taking a _wide_, Dadda? Just the two of us?"

"What you say, kid?"

Han smirked at him, his face laced in that same smugness that Ben had inherited so effortlessly but so rarely had shown the world. And then Ben flinched, and the piece of forgotten memory vanished before he could hear his own reply. When he opened his eyes and caught his breath, he found himself curled up in a seat beside Rey, who was watching him with a curious expression. He swallowed hard, embarrassed at the watery feeling in his eyes and looked anywhere else but her.

"I didn't want to wake you up," she told him in an apologetic tone.

"It's fine," he shook his head dismissively, his damp eyes now studying the knob where he had snatched his Dad's gold dice so many years ago. "Where's FN-_your friend_?"

"He took the X-wing. When I told him who it had belonged to, I think he almost forgave me for threatening him."

Ben found himself nodding almost automatically and Rey averted her face, a slight frown marking her tired expression now. His heart was beating so goddamn fast that he could almost hear his own heartbeats, that forgotten memory strangely vivid in front of his eyes and something, _something_ odd and _unknown_ invading and flowing through his entire body as if he breathed and lived in that atmosphere of _what_? He took one, two, three deep breaths, but that strange feeling that seemed to encompass his entire existence did not go away.

He closed his eyes once more, squeezed them as if physically forcing his brain to blurt out the rest of the memory he had just glimpsed in his dream. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, all he got were the sound of the engines, the color of the buttons, the shapes and lights, the switches and the knobs, the feeling of the gold dice tucked inside his hands. He forced himself to think of his Dad, of Han Solo, waiting for them to come, knowing that perhaps that memory would be capable of triggering those thoughts and memories. Fear. Resentment. Bitterness. Anger. Hatred. Pain. Guilt. Regret. They refused to come.

"I'm sorry he brought the Falcon. I know it's… I know it's too much," Rey's voice came from somewhere.

Ben nodded slightly and found a blue switch on the control panel that grasped his attention immediately, even though there was absolutely nothing special about it. Rey took the cue and silence fell between them once again as Ben studied the button with fake interest, wondering what was going on, wondering why he could not make himself react, think and feel what he was supposed to at the sight of the Millennium Falcon, at the undeniable presence of Han Solo, his Dad.

He counted again. One. Two. Three. He blinked again. One. Two. Three. He felt them stream down his face. One. Two. Three.

"_Dad…_"

"_I know_."

And there it was. And he knew it. Oh Stars, he knew _it_. It was not _nothing_. It could not be farther from _nothing_. It was _everything_. And yet, it was not what he was expecting. It was no fear, resentment, bitterness, anger, hatred, pain, guilt or regret. It was not dark, cold, heavy or quiet. It had no shadows encrusted to it or desperation clinging its claws to it. One. Two. Three. He felt another set of tears stream down his face.

Yes, Ben knew he was _three_ years old the _first_ time he had ever stepped foot inside his Dad's treasured Millennium Falcon. And now he remembered how that was like – the pure joy, the sheer happiness, the undeniable _love_. And now he got to be there _another time_, but it was not just _any time_. It was not _nothing_. Because now, Han knew, his Dad knew _it_. It was something else.

Melancholy.

Whenever a storm approaches, the signs can be seen and felt from afar – slowly and then at once. It gets colder, the air gets heavier, the surroundings get darker, everything goes quiet. The silence that precedes chaos. A moment of quiet before violence, mayhem and destruction. Yet, there are some very special occasions in which an imminent storm end ups building up to _something else_ and just as abruptly and quietly as it appears, it ebbs away, its evidences nothing more than a pale grey sky, hushed reminiscences and silent ruminations. Melancholy.

X

**A/N:** this chapter is truly meant to be more of Ben Solo's scattered reflections and quiet insights I figured that being in the Millennium Falcon would perhaps lead to a breakdown, but then that scene in TROS when he talks to Han Solo made me think that they had already their closure. So, even though Ben has not forgiven himself, I wanted his memories of the Millennium Falcon to reek of something else. "Melancholy is sadness that has taken on lightness" from Italo Calvino is what inspired me to write this chapter and I figured this would be the perfect explanation as to what he would be feeling.

Once again, thank you very much to everyone who followed, favorited and reviewed this piece, especially tilvy19it, Guest, ToughSpirit, Joys and pgoodrichboggs. Hope you enjoy this chapter too.


	4. Four

"_What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us."__― __Ralph Waldo Emerson_

X

"We're almost there."

Ben pressed his palms against his tired eyes and nodded before pausing for a moment to watch Rey. She looked just as tired and he could not help but feel guilty for leaving her to fly the Millennium Falcon by herself as he pondered and reminisced about his own life. He had tried to voice an apology earlier, but Rey had simply smiled and shook her head.

"_I know it is a lot to take in_," she had said dismissively, and he could see in her eyes that she was telling the truth.

They had not spoken much as they made their way to the Resistance base at Ajan Kloss. Both had reached that sort of torpor of exhaustion in which adrenaline made them too aware of their surroundings to give in to fatigue, and yet they still lacked energy to do the basics. Every part of Ben's body throbbed painfully although he had managed to find a sitting position in which he was somewhat comfortable given the circumstances. Nonetheless, each breath he took still felt like someone was crushing his insides and his broken leg felt so sore he found himself trying to move it occasionally to make sure it was still functioning.

Ben kept chastising himself mentally for giving in to his own selfish turmoil instead of being there for Rey. Stars, what she had faced, what she had discovered – he doubted he knew anything more heartbreaking and torturing than that and he had had and seen his fair share of torture and torment. However, Rey still kept that same aura of stubborn determination, that _grit_ that made her clench her jaw proudly, strengthen her back, stretch her hands and face _it_ with those same hopeful eyes in spite of _everything_.

"What?" Rey asked, noticing Ben's gaze.

"I'm glad that you're here," he muttered looking at his own feet and feeling his face warm up.

"Me too," she replied, surprised at his confession and blushing slightly.

The Millennium Falcon entered Ajan Kloss, the Resistance's temporary base and Ben set his eyes on Rey once again. Though visibly tired, she also looked oddly at ease at the prospect of reuniting with her friends _whilst _bringing their nemesis with her. He frowned and wondered how long it would take for them to kick him out; his best guess was before sunset. Rey had managed to tame FN 2187, but he doubted she would succeed in doing the same with notorious hothead Poe Dameron. And even if she did, well, there was still _everybody else_.

"Don't worry, Ben. They're not going to do anything to you," Rey, who was still watching him stare at his own feet, told him with a smile.

"I thought we had agreed not to look into each other's minds," Ben looked up, raising one eyebrow.

"It's hardly needed," she shrugged, head casually tilted to the side and lips twitched up.

"Am I that obvious?"

"Maybe. Or maybe I am just very good at reading you."

"Of course you are," he nodded and Rey smirked proudly at him.

"Don't worry, though. I can handle this."

"I know you can," he told her with a smile that Rey returned shyly, her cheeks reddening again.

Oh Stars, how he wanted the Resistance to just be over with that situation so he could be with her.

"And don't say anything, alright? Just, you know," she went on and Ben fidgeted, shaking off his daydreams; Rey had her hands up in the air and was trying to gesticulate whatever it was she was trying to convey, "Just keep quiet, don't taunt them, don't threaten them, don't react too harshly to whatever they're probably going to say and…," Rey's hands fell on the control panel once more and she let out a deep sigh and bit on her lips, "and don't, you know, don't scowl. Yes, refrain from scowling. That'll probably do it."

"Really? Don't scowl?" Ben sniggered, shaking his head in disbelief and raising both eyebrows.

"Yes, and it's probably a good idea if you don't sneer as well. Just try to look, huh…"

"Not my usual self?"

"Exactly," Rey agreed, turning around to look at him, her eyes sparkling mischievously, and Ben had to contain the urge to roll his eyes at her although it was only half-heartedly. "_Please_, Ben. You need help and there's nowhere else to go."

"_Fine_," he nodded in spite of starting to wonder how long he could stand being with those _people_ without mustering any of the reactions he used spared to them. "I will behave, alright?"

"Thank you, Ben," she mumbled, reaching for his hand and squeezing it tightly with such ease that it felt as though they had always done that. "And I _promise_ we can talk after you get some rest. After _we_ get some rest," she added when he opened his mouth to correct her.

Had anyone made any promises to him? Much less promises that they intended to keep or did not sound empty and meaningless? Perhaps it was yet again his tired mind taking the stage, but he doubted so. He had often considered promises nothing more than words uttered by puny men and women in desperate attempts to project their own second guesses and despairs into someone else and convince themselves of the unachievable. Words were just _words_, they could be turned into anything, twisted into any shape, bent to one's will. Much like lies. Yes, promises had always been very much like lies.

As he studied Rey's brown eyes, it was obvious that he had been wrong _yet again_.

"Good," he responded, brushing his thumb over the back of her hand. "Good."

Rey landed the Millennium Falcon with that natural ability he still could not quite comprehend. From what she had told him during those Force Connection sessions in which she had spoken about her past, Rey had run flight simulations and studied schematics during her time living in that walker in Jakku and he had often wondered if she had managed that thanks to her undisturbed determination or because of her natural Force. Perhaps a bit of both.

"I'll go first and then help you out."

For the fourth time in just a few minutes, Ben nodded and remained quiet. As Rey left, he could now listen to the booming chattering surrounding them. The Resistance was probably celebrating the destruction of the fleet of Imperial destroyers and the fact that the First Order now had no commanders left. That thought did not bother him – the First Order had already failed him long before he had become Supreme Leader Kylo Ren and even during his brief tenure as their leader, he was far from believing in what they stood for. Which naturally did not mean he supported the Resistance. To be perfectly honest, he did not know what he supported anymore if he actually had it in him to support _anything_. In that very moment, a warm bath, a comfortable bed and Rey's smiles and promises looked like his best prospect.

He leaned forward and held his head between his hands, sighing heavily. His mind was now beyond the point of summoning anything but the fiber he needed to get through the next moments. He had to keep quiet, he had to refrain from taunting and threatening those people, he had to bite down on his scowls and sneers, he had to tone down his reactions. He _had_ to. Ben felt so, so tired, numb, hurt, sore that he did not even had it in him to complain or debate Rey's certainty that the Resistance would help him. It was not like he did not have a choice – of course he had, everyone _always _had a choice, that much he had already learned. That was why he stood there, waiting in anticipation for the next moments, because he had chosen, because he had _finally_ made a choice.

Ben had chosen Rey and in doing that, everything that she stood for.

And that was the reason he saw himself in that place of all places in the entire galaxy, about to show his face to the very people he had sought to destroy. He knew what was coming his way – the accusations, the truths, the questions, the threats – and he knew he deserved it. It was probably even short of what he truly deserved. Although he was far from eager to listening to the Resistance's rants about him, he knew he would have to. If he had chosen Rey, that was the only way.

Outside, Rey could not help but beam at the sight of _everyone_. She had never been in a more cheerful environment – wherever she looked, there were people hugging each other, kissing each other, throwing their fists up in the air, whistling, shouting happily and celebrating. Her chest warmed immediately even though she also felt a slight pang at the thought that Leia was not going to be there. And it was not just because she would not be there to witness what her leadership had accomplished or for Rey to hug her one last time. There was much, so much more than that.

Ben Solo was there. Rey remembered Leia's words about Ben being the only one who could still save himself. At that time, blinded with resentment and disappointment, Rey had acquiesced, convinced that Kylo Ren was a monster who had buried Ben Solo for good and that no one else could help him, save him. Nonetheless, she had never truly given up on him. It was unavoidable, much like their bond. Thus why her heart broke at the realization that Leia was not there to see her son and that Ben would never be able to see his mother again.

Nevertheless, even under her unwavering hope on Ben, Rey was aware of what to expect.

"Rey!"

She found Finn and Poe hugging each other lovingly and she hurried to meet them, throwing her arms around the two and holding them tight. Oh Stars, how she had missed them, how she had worried about them! Her friends, her dear friends. They were proof that blood really was not everything and they probably did not fully grasp how thankful she was for having them. It truly is impossible not to be friends when you are working to save the galaxy. Maybe there really is no truer foundation for a friendship than risking your own lives together.

Her mind immediately travelled back to Jakku. It was hard not to reminisce about her time there no matter how much she resented that place. Every day before sleep she would spend minutes longing for her parents, begging for them to come back and explain why they had left. There were some times too in which she would plead for anyone listening to send her _someone_, someone to keep her company, someone with whom she could talk, _someone_ just so she would not be alone. No one had ever come – not her parents, not any friends. She only had her doll, that doll she had made with her bare hands out of a flight uniform and with _whom_ she had lived so many adventures. The doll was still there at her makeshift house, buried somewhere in the middle of the piles of little things she had salvaged and brought home so it would seem less empty, less lonely.

She had been used to loneliness, though. In a way, loneliness had always been her only company.

And however, being able to call Poe and Finn her friends was among the easiest and the hardest things she had ever done. It was easy for her heart to splutter the words she had always craved to say – the little girl who she knew still lived inside her would never cease to be amazed at how lucky she was. And yet, it was so hard at the same time because having friends meant one could also _not have_ friends. What one can have, they can lose, or have it taken away.

Which was why Rey held Poe and Finn just a little longer and just a little tighter than she was used to. When she let go of them, she could not help but feel anticipation build up at what she was about to do.

If Finn was still angry, he had probably decided to set it aside so he could show some affection towards Rey at least for a moment. When she let go of them, however, their gazes crossed briefly and she knew he was just as apprehensive.

"Are you okay there, Rey?"

"Great, Poe. And you?"

"Never better!" Poe replied with his characteristic grin, his right arm still draped around Finn's shoulder. "You look like you've been through some deep shit, though," he added as his eyes scanned Rey's disheveled look punctuated by a serious of bruises and blood stains.

"I'm alright," she replied with a smile as Finn stared at her intently. "Poe…"

"Where were you? Why did you ask Finn to meet you?" Poe interrupted Rey before she could finish her sentence.

"Poe, I need help, someone needs _our_ help."

"Sure, who is it?" Poe looked around, letting go of Finn's shoulder.

"I'll go get him, but you have to promise you won't do _anything_, alright?"

"What do you mean?" Poe had his forehead wrinkled and he turned to look at Finn, but he was still watching Rey intently, his face devoid of any emotion.

"In the Falcon. I've brought someone with me, someone that needs our help. He's badly injured."

"Go get him, then," Poe encouraged immediately, throwing a hand in the air. Then, he nudged Finn whose face remained stoic. "You know about this?"

"You'll see," he replied, blankly, and Poe furrowed his brows even more, visibly concerned at Finn's demeanor.

Giving Finn a knowing look and already preparing to use the Force to prevent Poe from firing his blaster at the sight of Ben, Rey stepped inside the Millennium Falcon and found him exactly where she had left him. Ben raised one eyebrow and she tried to reciprocate it with unwavering determination, but now very aware that she did not feel as confident as before. She lowered her head until she was touching his and traced the sharp silhouette of his face with her fingers. Ben closed his eyes, lips parted, and relished her closeness, sensing their Force flow through them as if their connection was letting them know that it was still there.

"Are you ready?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"I suppose not," she sighed, opening her eyes and drinking in Ben's brown eyes and the paintbrush of freckles flicked over his face.

A single thought flashed quickly before Ben's eyes, just as sudden as a wisp of flame escaping a bonfire.

"_You are not alone._"

Ben leaned in and kissed Rey. And after she opened her eyes and let go of his full lips, her eyes now widened with surprise and her cheeks blushing endearingly, he kissed her once again.

"You know I'm not leaving you," she breathed out, her widened eyes flicking from his eyes to his mouth and then looking everywhere across his face.

"I know," he mumbled, cupping her face.

Rey helped Ben stand to his feet and put an arm around his waist. They walked clumsily together, Rey's body aching with the effort of carrying him and wondering how much longer both of them could still bare until they gave in to complete exhaustion. The trickle of anxiety he was feeling just before she had entered the Millennium Falcon had been washed away.

The thundering voices of rejoice died down the moment Ben stepped outside the ship, a towering and pale figure draped in black clothing in the middle of a sea of color and beside the very epitome of Light. He could feel every pair of eyes stare at their direction, their voices stuck on their throats, their fists still held mid-air. The atmosphere shifted as quickly as if a lightning bolt had just hit each and every one of them. Rey clutched Ben a little tighter and he felt his left fist automatically ball as they approached a pair of visibly disturbed and angry men.

"Really, Rey? When you said you were getting someone you meant this scumbag?"

"Ben needs help," she retorted, calmly.

"_Ben_?" Poe scoffed and Ben stared blankly at him, holding tight to his promise of not being his usual self in spite of the tingling feeling now attracting his hand to that man's throat. "That's fucking Kylo Ren, Rey. _Supreme Leader_ Kylo Ren."

"He's Ben Solo," Rey corrected him, her voice still calm and resolute.

"Bullshit," he snorted, his features contracted in absolute disgust, but Rey did not even flutter her eyelashes; she was used to dealing with that kind of behavior. "He stops dressing in a black cloak, takes off that ridiculous mask, ditches the scary light saber and suddenly you think he stopped being a maniac, is that what this is all about?"

"Fuck, you're simple," Ben could not contain his own blurted out reply and Rey had to muster all her self-control not to elbow him and give him another injury. She had to settle for rolling her eyes and gritting her teeth.

"Ben, please," she scolded him and Ben gave her a half-shrug and summoned yet again his façade.

On the inside, however, he had just uncovered four different ways he would like to end Poe's life.

"You knew about this, Finn? You knew about this madness and let her come?"

"Rey has never given us any reason not to trust her," Finn answered, his eyes locked at Ben's face with an unreadable look. Rey tried to show him how much she appreciated his answer, but Finn was adamant on looking anywhere but her.

"Until this point!" Poe screamed, stepping forward and staring at Ben. Being significantly shorter, it did not look very intimidating, yet Poe Dameron had the eyes of a man who was willing to do something very dangerous and very violent. "What the fuck is this little piece of shit doing here, Rey? And why are you standing up for him?"

"Poe, Ben saved my life. I will explain everything to you later, but right now he needs help. Look, he's badly injured, you don't know what we've just been through and..."

"I don't give a damn what he needs, Rey! Have you forgotten who he is? What he's done?"

"He's Leia's son! She would want us to help him!"

"Yes, maybe she would! But thanks to him, we will never know for sure!"

Rey looked for a moment as though someone had just slapped her. Beside her, Ben did not appear to have heard anything; he remained quiet, steady, his naturally arrogant features hidden beneath a well-trained façade of indifference. On the inside, however, something hard throbbed inside his chest and he felt his body, his mind, his heart and his soul reach out to the very _unknown_ in order to muster _everything_ not to react to the mention of his Mom.

"That's not true," Rey argued and she looked upset and furious right now. "That's not his fault!"

"Then what about his father? Or our soldiers and allies? Or, you know, Finn! Or you! Or me! You're out of your mind if you think you can waltz in here and make us help him just because it's you who are asking! You're lucky I haven't arrested him!"

"Arrest him?"

"He's a criminal! Or have you suddenly forgotten everything he's done? And by the way, that's what _they_'d do to us! In fact, I'm sorry. _His_ side would arrest us, torture us and then kill us! As they've tried to do so many times!"

"It's not _his_ side, Poe! He's not one of them," Rey countered through her teeth, nostrils flared and one hand hovering over her light saber.

"Oh, that's so convenient! So he's a fucking traitor, then, or did he just disband because the First Order's over?"

"It never was his side! It was Snoke, Poe, and Ben killed Snoke to protect me!"

Poe snickered, hands on his hips and looked around, licking his lips as though trying to find the words. Rey took advantage of his momentary pause to puff up her chest, raise her head defiantly and end that pointless discussion.

"Ben's staying. Ben's getting help. Ben's staying free," Rey stated, shifting her weight to hold him a little steadier.

"You can stay, Rey. Without this fuckhead. He needs to go. _Now_."

"The fuckhead has a name, jerk face," Ben blurted out another time. He did not know why, but that had really struck a nerve.

"Does _it_ now?"

"I just find it curious how despite your self-righteousness you were _conveniently_ willing to welcome help from someone like Hux in spite of his past, huh, _endeavors_," Ben drawled, looking at Poe with a very supercilious expression, but his tone seemingly casual as if they were discussing if there was a chance of rain later or not. Rey exhaled in exasperation.

"Are you trying to imply something, _Kylo Ren_?"

"I am making an observation about the human behavior, Dameron. Do try to keep up."

The two men stared at each other. Poe's face was still twisted angrily, every line of his face screaming how much he loathed the man in front of him. Ben, on the other hand, having blown off some of his contempt at the man, had gone back to looking at him with polite indifference. Rey, in spite of her exasperation and a little disappointment at Ben's reaction, could not help but see that he indeed had a very valid point. She would now get to the end of that discussion and she knew exactly how. Maybe she should have focused on that all along instead of trying to reason with Poe.

"Ben's staying here, he's getting help and staying free."

"Now, let me tell you something, Rey…" Poe raised a finger and stepped forward again, but she cut him off.

"Maybe you were under the impression that I was _asking_, Poe, but I wasn't. I'm done asking for permission. I was merely saying what is going to happen."

"You're not in charge, Rey. You don't have the authority."

"And you don't have the _full_ authority. You're just an Acting General. Finn is your Co-General which means that he has as much authority as you do."

Now it was Poe Dameron's turn to look like he had been slapped. He looked taken back for a moment and glanced at Finn, who swallowed hard and looked like he had found something very interesting at the tip of his shoes. Ben bit down hard on his lip and suppressed the sudden urge that made his mouth want to twitch up. He knew exactly where this was going. For a moment, he had forgotten who she was and what she had dealt with. Rey had been a scavenger for most of her life, and that meant that she was used to being alone and salvaging broken things – he knew the latter far too well. But besides that and in a much more pragmatic way, it also meant that Rey was both resourceful _and_ cunning, capable of finding solutions and solving problems when no one else believed it was possible. It did not make her any less kind – if anything, it made her even more human.

"You agree with this fucking insanity, Finn? Really?"

Finn was still looking at his feet intently, but a wrinkle had appeared in between his brows. Rey glanced at Ben and he nodded almost imperceptibly. She let go of him momentarily, helping him balance a bit clumsily, and stepped forward towards Finn. The former Stormtrooper raised his eyes as Rey smiled a bit wanly at him, holding his hands in hers.

"I know what you wanted to tell me, Finn."

"You d-do?" Finn stammered, wide-eyed, gulping.

"You feel it, don't you? The Force. You feel the Force too," Rey spoke gently.

Poe's eyes kept going from one to the other, his mouth parted in puzzlement. Everything was so quiet and it felt like everyone else was watching the four of them in the middle of the Resistance base, their breathing slow and their eyes, transfixed.

"I- Rey, how do you know?"

"A feeling," she answered, and though Ben could not see her eyes, he knew fairly well how they looked like at that moment.

Finn inhaled and exhaled one, two, three, four times. And then he nodded slowly, closing his eyes. Rey squeezed his hands and smiled more encouragingly now as Finn opened his eyes and allowed them to travel to Ben Solo. He swallowed hard once again, mouth faintly open as he considered the man.

"Finn, you know I am telling the truth about Ben. This is Ben Solo. And Ben saved my life. He's not our enemy. There is Light in him. Just feel it, Finn. Just feel the Force."

Finn's eyes glanced from Ben Solo's blank expression to Poe's dumbfounded face and then to Rey's peaceful and kind appearance.

"Do you feel it?"

X

**A/N:** as usual, thank you to everyone who followed, favorited and reviewed this story! I honestly don't even know how to thank everyone who said such lovely words – it really warmed my heart and I am very happy you are enjoying this. Thank you CrazyCherryBomb, maushaushase, Taylor323, Guest and Valana78 for your kindness. As I said in one of my replies, Adam Driver's portrayal of Ben Solo/Kylo Ren has been a huge inspiration for me to write this story and perhaps this is why I linger more on Ben's POV rather than Rey's. Anyway, I digress. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter – please let me know your thoughts! And by the way, see if you can find a reference to Undercover Boss Kylo Ren in there. I really couldn't help myself - it's one of the best SW sketches out there. Also, sorry for the cliffhanger.


	5. Five

_"There is a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in." ― Leonard Cohen, Selected Poems, 1956-1968_

X

_"Oh, it's you again."_

_"It's not like I've asked for this."_

_"I haven't asked for it either."_

_He was standing about two meters from her and dressed in all black as usual. He had woken up some time ago and after spending about one hour undressed sitting on the edge of his bed and looking fixedly at the opposite side, he had decided to busy his mind with the daily attributions of being Supreme Leader. However, his plans had been disturbed before he could leave his quarters as the knowing feeling of their Force Connection rung again. Rey looked vaguely irritated at his presence, nostrils flared slightly at the sight of his black clad figure. However, he barely had time to scan her sweaty face and disheveled hair for she raised her quarterstaff as if nothing unusual was going on and resumed her training._

_"Where are you?" He asked as he always did, wondering if one day she would actually answer his question._

_"I'm not answering that question."_

_Slightly disappointed at his own luck, he raised one eyebrow and watched her movements, hands behind his back like a teacher observing his student. If she was miffed at having someone invading her training, Rey did a great job pretending not to and she spun in place, quarterstaff above her head. It occurred to him that perhaps that was one of the reasons she was a natural with the lightsaber. She certainly could do a number with pointy things besides poking eyes out._

_"Why? You don't trust me?"_

_"Would you?"_

_"I suppose not."_

_Rey spun around once again and thrust her quarterstaff forward and it stopped inches from his throat, her face filled with contempt and anger. He did not flinch or even appear to have minded her stance; his face remained stoic and he kept his body stiffened, dropping his arms beside him casually, an old tree in the middle of a forgotten glade that not even the hardest wind could bend. Nonetheless, his mind could not help but wander to not so long before, when she had looked at him with kindness, understanding and, he cursed himself for perhaps reading too much, _affection_._

_"You look too confident that I won't hit you," she glowered, her knuckles white around the staff, her back straightened gracefully._

_"You don't want to hurt me, Rey," he replied with simplicity and she narrowed her eyes._

_"You don't know anything about me, _Ren_."_

_For less than a second, he felt his eyes widen involuntarily at the last word and cursed himself mentally for his lack of subtlety. A flicker of triumph sprouted in Rey's face and then she flashed him a knowing smile that was much more calculating than it was friendly, while he immediately summoned back his old façade._

_"Struck a nerve, have I?"_

_"Don't presume to know me," he countered with indifference, his lips barely moving as the words left his mouth._

_Rey did not seem to mind his antics; if anything, she looked used to it, even bored by it. She pulled the quarterstaff away and beckoned it towards his left forearm, her expression blank. He looked down, nostrils flaring at his own stupidity and carelessness, and immediately pulled his sleeve harshly to cover it, a scowl now deforming his features and throwing his indifference to the wind._

_"I thought you had stopped doing that to yourself."_

_"I thought you didn't care."_

_He was staring at her intently, his breath faltering at his own fucking mistake. Even though every corner of her face screamed indifference, her eyes were another story entirely. They were impenetrable, fierce, watching him so intensely that they were like the blazing sunset. He found himself averting his gaze, unable to sustain her look for any second longer, and instead he decided to study her quarterstaff, although he felt her gaze linger stubbornly on him for a few more moments._

_"You have a lightsaber. Why do you keep training with this thing?"_

_"The lightsaber isn't mine," she answered, sticking the quarterstaff on the ground and leaning against it casually._

_"Neither is the quarterstaff. You stole it."_

_"I salvaged it, that's different," she corrected him with some slight annoyance._

_"Yes, I've realized that you have a flair for caring for pathetic things."_

_"Maybe that's why I spend so much time with you."_

_He felt a grin escape his lips at her tongue-in-cheek retort. If he had not known it better, he would have bet he had rubbed off some of his dry sense of humor on her ever since they had started _conversing_. Rey's eyes sparkled mischievously and her own lips stretched in something close to a smirk. He tried to pretend that that behavior did not affect him, but it was very difficult not to notice how much he enjoyed the way her lips curved upward, much less how he suspected she saved her witty comebacks only for him._

_Speaking of pathetic things…_

_"You're alone again," he remarked, emotionlessly, the grin melting off his face._

_"Obviously."_

_"Not spending time with your _friends_?"_

_"Everyone's busy with different things," she said evasively, tracing something on the ground with the tip of her quarterstaff, her eyebrows knitted._

_He raised a hand and pulled his hair back, sighing and watching her posture for a minute._

_"They don't get it, do they?"_

_"No, they don't."_

_They remained in silence for a full minute, her eyes lowered as if she wanted to avoid his gaze._

_"I do. I do understand it, Rey," he stepped forward, his face no longer covered in his mask of indifference._

_"No, you don't. Ben Solo understands it. Kylo Ren doesn't."_

Ben flinched at her contemptuous expression and woke up, his breath faltering. His chest was going up and down rapidly, his eyes widened as they tried to grasp his surroundings. It took him about twenty seconds to realize he was in the Resistance makeshift hospital and that a pale sunlight was beginning to bath the place stubbornly while distant chirping and cricketing sounds provided the soundtrack. Ben's chest felt heavy as his heart thumped and thumped, the vivid memory of Rey's dirty look branded in front of his eyes and darkening everything he could see.

The first rays of light of the morning were peering through the makeshift hospital where Ben had been confined for the past five days. He had been awake for some minutes after having managed to dream another sleepless night peppered by the occasional stirring in place as a result of the position he was forced to keep so his ribs and leg would mend. But then the silence had been too much for him to bear and his mind had drifted, which resulted in him falling asleep with his head down against his chest. He touched the nape of his sore neck, pressing it so the pain would sharpen and then sooth. It was quite uncomfortable if he was going to be completely honest – he would much rather lie on his side and clutch a pillow then stay belly up with his back leaned on that hard cushion. He was in no place to complain, though. If anything, the fact that he was there in the middle of a Resistance camp was his entire fault.

FN 2187 had vouched for him – if one could consider vouching nodding their head begrudgingly and admitting that they had a _feeling_ that it was the right thing to do. He had kept his opinion to himself regarding the description of the Force as a _feeling_ especially because Rey had been the one to encourage that phrasing. He knew that the Force was much more than just a feeling but then again, Rey had been a natural in all things related to the Force, so it was not like he was in a place to teach her anything anymore. Ironically, as he would end up finding out later that very first day.

Rey had flung her arms around her friend – she seemed to do that quite a lot and Ben had made a mental note that he ought to learn new ways to mask his jealously in silence. Then, ignoring Poe Dameron completely, she had helped Ben get to the Resistance's makeshift hospital while everyone else stared at them with a mix of anger, hesitance and confusion, doing very little to resume their celebrations of the Resistance's victory. Ben had kept his eyes on the ground as they walked clumsily and passed by the guarded faces of Rey's comrades. At some point during that awkward procession, some whatersname had hurried across them and offered to help. Once again, being in no position to say anything, the three of them had walked slowly towards the farthest corner of the camp, sheltered from everyone else's disdain. Ben had a faint recollection of Rey thanking the woman as they helped him lie on a bed that barely fit his body before his eyelids fluttered and he was out for good.

He had not dreamt that day. Or the other. Or any of the days save that very morning. The past five days had dragged their heels slowly and quietly and the only constants besides his dreamless sleeps were Rey's presence beside his bed, their seclusion from the rest of the Resistance and his intentional avoidance of the death of his Mom.

Ben suspected he was being kept as their prisoner and Rey's insistence on being there meant that she too had become sort of one. Her lightsabers had been confiscated, although she had managed to keep her quarterstaff, and food was brought every day by the same whatersname who had helped them upon their arrival. FN 2187 had showed up three times and spoke in whispers with Rey in a corner, her expression always going from kind eyes to furrowed brows, fingers scratching her chin or covering her mouth as she heard his words. C-3PO and R2-D2 had come once and Ben had pretended to be asleep because he intended to deal with what that meant later, especially when he heard C-3PO ask Rey how his old Master Ben was doing. Then, there were two droids named BB-8 and D-O that spent quite some time rolling around Rey and making her laugh. Even though he could not quite understand why she would bother befriending droids, the sound of her laughter brought him some much needed peace of mind, so he decided he did not mind their presence, nor their questions and occasional comments about him. Thankfully, Poe Dameron had not graced them with his presence – Rey had confessed one night that although well intentioned, he was a _very difficult_ man. Ben suspected that that was her own way of avoiding a plethora of curses to describe him.

Ignoring the weak rays of sunlight now fully invading their medical wing, Ben allowed his eyes to travel to Rey's sleeping figure on the other bed beside him and a wrinkle appeared between his brows. It was curious how peaceful she looked in her sleep, curled up in that seemingly uncomfortable small bed and draped in something ragged that barely warmed her up. And yet, she did not seem to mind it – there was no wrinkle between her eyebrows or fidgeting to her body. Or perhaps it was because she, in an ironically similar way to him, was in no position to complain about such trivialities. Then it occurred to him that in fact, unlike him, she had never been in a position to complain.

_"I do. I do understand it, Rey."_

_"No, you don't. Ben Solo understands it. Kylo Ren doesn't."_

Truth indeed brought bitterness to one's mouth before setting them free. He had lied so much to himself, kindled that fire to a point where he almost no longer distinguished the truth within himself. And it had been Rey who had seen past the cracks appearing in the base and reached out to him as if in spite of all darkness, she carried the sun in her hands for him. Watching Rey's sleeping figure, Ben clutched his left forearm tightly and felt his mind wander to the conversation he had been revisiting for the past days.

X

The very conversation he had been anticipating had taken place in the middle of their first night in that makeshift hospital after a long period of sleep and a warm bowl of some herby broth provided by the whatersname. As soon as the woman had turned her back, Rey took a seat on the edge of Ben's bed with such effortlessness that it appeared she had done that multiple times. Ben swallowed a big lump on his throat as he watched her, his heart picking up pace at her welcome proximity. Rey's hair was down that night and she had a greyish coat covering her bare arms which instantly reminded him of their first Force Connection sessions during her time in Ahch-To. He watched her eyes scan his bare and bandaged chest and strapped up leg before settling on his face with an anxious expression.

"They came to me, you know?" Rey told him bluntly as she picked on the fabric of his thin blanket.

"Who?" Ben asked, noticing her tense neck as they talked.

"When I was there with him, with Palpatine… after he took you down… _They_ came to me."

Ben remembered Rey's expressions all too well to know that she was doing her best to appear casual about that entire ordeal. Yet, a confident Rey was very different from a hesitant Rey. The very fact that she was avoiding his eyes was enough for him to know not only how uncertain _she_ was but also how lucky _he_ was that she was opening up to him, a man who had given her a million reasons not to be trusted with that kind of information. He kept watching Rey pick on the fabric for a minute longer before she began tracing the small triangles patterned on it with her index finger.

"Your parents?"

"No. The Jedi," she answered, lips parted as she exhaled.

"The Jedi? Which Jedi?"

"All of them, Ben."

"All of them?" Ben heard himself ask before he could even process the meaning of her statement.

"I think so. No, I'm sorry, I know it. It _was_ all of them."

"H-how?"

Rey opened and closed her mouth once, twice and then licked her lips before answering.

"I just asked them to be with me," she replied in a quiet tone, raising one eyebrow as if she too was not certain how that had worked and then added with her eyes still settled on his blanket, "I did not even know if that was going to work."

"You just asked them to be with you?" Ben repeated, confused, eyebrows furrowed.

"I had a _feeling_ that it was the only thing I could do. I was not enough to defeat him, even the two of us did not stand a chance against him. I needed help, so I asked for the help of the only people I knew could help me. For some reason, it seemed the only thing I could do."

Another wave of silence fell between them. Rey had now given up on tracing the patterned blanket and decided to do the same with the hem of her coat, brows knitted in concentration.

"And h-how… how was it?"

"I don't think I even know how to describe it," she smiled wanly at her own lap while Ben kept gaping at her face. It was a strained smile, though, as if she was forcing to summon some sort of emotion besides whatever she was feeling. "It was like I was no longer myself. I felt so _light_ but so powerful at the same time, so present in that moment but it was also as if I was watching it unfold from above, like I was not even there. Before that, it was just Dark creeping in, but then their Light began calling upon me. It was so… so overwhelming, Ben," Rey breathed out in a soft whisper, "So different from anything I knew about the Force. They just channeled through me as if I was… I don't even know if that makes any sense… As if I was a vessel of sorts. And then, you know, I knew that they were with me, their powers, their presence, their _Force_. I heard them, they spoke to me. They were _truly_ with me. "

Rey raised her eyes and let go of the fabric, giving Ben a tentative look as though she was not sure he believed her tale. He knew he was too mystified by her narrative to allow any expression to be displayed upon his face until he found himself blurting out something that he immediately regretted the moment it left his mouth.

"Was _he _there?"

His eyes widened the moment the last word was uttered and yet Rey did not seem to mind his selfishness. If anything, she looked like she even welcomed it.

"Your grandfather?" Ben nodded begrudgingly, cursing himself for once again worrying about his own concerns before Rey's. "Yes. Yes, he was."

Ben nodded absentmindedly, his mind still too clouded with confusion and a hint of jealously laced in bitterness to say anything.

"Ben, _Kylo Ren_ asked _Darth Vader_ to come. That's why there was never an answer."

And there it was – her unequivocal hope. Even in a world full of peril, in spite of all the dark places and creatures that inhabited the galaxy, despite every ounce of pain, disappointment and frustration she had endured, her hope could not be destroyed. Upon the threshold of the very end, it was still there and it had been precisely that what had saved her, what had saved him, what had saved _all of them_.

"And then Palpatine was gone?"

"Yes. I mean, there was a fight, I suppose. I can hardly remember what happened, Ben. But I think he was gone," she responded in a muttered tone, rubbing her neck, deep in thought. "And then everything went dark and you woke me up. I still don't know if I've thanked you enough for doing that."

"I'm sure I will figure out a way for you to thank me," he teased Rey with a sly smile.

"Of course you will," Rey rolled her eyes but smiled all the same, her cheeks blushing ever so slightly.

"How do you feel about all of this?"

Rey's smile melted just as quickly as it had come and she started fussing with the hem of her coat and pressing inexistent wrinkles there, her chest going up and down heavily as she considered his question.

"I don't know, Ben," she sighed and bit down on her lips. After another minute or so in which Ben followed her wrinkle-pressing exercise, she opened her mouth and carried on, "I mean, obviously I'm relieved that it's all over, I'm relieved that I finally know the truth. I suppose I should appreciate that there is some closure."

"But?"

"But it did not change anything. They're still gone."

Ben felt a shadow flicker in her eyes and a knowing feeling drummed its fingers on his chest.

"There's something else bothering you, Rey, I can sense it."

Rey averted her eyes from Ben's face and turned them to the side, watching the medical wing but clearly not really looking at it. It was so quiet out there save from the distant sounds of the creatures lurking in the shadows of that forgotten place. Five minutes went by as Ben allowed Rey to ponder about what was troubling her mind and he studied her plummeted shoulders and vacant eyes in silence, knowing very well in his heart why she did not seem herself in that very moment.

"All this time, I wanted to know who I was. And now I do and I wish I didn't."

"You're more than just the granddaughter of Palpatine, Rey."

"I really wish I was no one," she confessed, her shoulders dropping even more.

"You were _never_ really no one. Not to me."

"But I was, Ben. I told you… I told you what happened when I was in that horrible place. There was no one in that room, just mirrors, just myself. And when I heard their whispers. I was Rey from nowhere. I was Just Rey."

"Why are you afraid of who you are, Rey?" Ben asked her and Rey's eyes widened instantly.

"Your… your mother told me not to be afraid of who I was, Ben."

Silence fell upon them and Ben felt his heart start hammering inside his chest, though his mind felt oddly present in that very moment.

"S-she… she was right."

"Deep down, I know who I am. I know _he_ of all people shouldn't define me. But I am so scared, Ben. I saw what lies inside me, you saw it too. And it's not gone. It's still _here_. It's part of me. You know it."

"Yes, I did see it. And I know it's still in there, Rey. But you shouldn't be afraid of it."

"How? How can I not dread the Dark? Do you still think I should welcome it?"

"In a way."

"Ben, you-"

"Look, it's not about _that_. Light cannot exist or thrive without Dark, Rey. All this time, _they _tried to teach us that it was only Light that mattered, that we should fight the darkness that lies inside. They were wrong. The only thing it accomplished was for us to dread ourselves. Look at you right now."

"What you're saying is-"

"That is who you are, Rey. Dark and Light. They are both part of you. Of me. Of us."

Rey watched him with bewilderment, her lips parted as she absorbed the meaning of his words. And yet, there was no dismay or contempt to her features, but honest curiosity at what Ben had just said. As she considered his words, Rey's fingers touched the bandage in which Ben's ribs were covered and he followed her movements as anticipation and something else that made him incredibly nervous tied a knot in the pit of his stomach. He breathed in and out slowly, his eyes going from Rey's parted lips to her eyes and then to her fingertips. They stood in silence as she pulled the edge of the bandage down a few inches and peeked at his bare skin with curiosity, pursing her lips and sighing deeply.

"I can still see it," she muttered in an apologetic tone, letting go of the bandage and hugging her own arms. "It's not there anymore, but I can see where it was."

"It was not your fault," he replied, his eyes lingering on the place she had stabbed him.

"It _was_," she confirmed it, looking up and meeting his eyes, a pleading look screaming for his attention. "I wanted to hurt you. I wanted to kill you."

"I pushed you to."

"You just stirred a fire that was already burning hot on the inside."

Rey let go of her own arms, crestfallen, and Ben took advantage of that to reach shyly for her hand and take it. She kept quiet as he laid her small hand atop his and studied the lines covering her fingers, the shape of her nails and the contrast between her sunkissed complexion and his paleness.

"After you left, I saw him," he muttered, eyes still on her hand but not really studying it anymore.

"Did you?"

"I tried to reach out for _her_, but she was gone. And then _he_ came."

"A ghost?"

"A memory. _My_ memory. It was different, though. He was _there_. Dad… I… We, we spoke."

"Did you-"

"He forgave me," he told her in a pleading tone as if he too wanted confirmation that it was real, that his Dad had truly and genuinely forgiven him.

"Of course he did, Ben. He loved you very much. He never stopped loving you. None of them did."

"I don't know if I deserved it, Rey," Ben admitted as his jaw trembled. He let go of Rey's hand and stared at the opposite wall fiercely, doing his best to contain the wave of second guesses and regrets that threatened to wash him away.

"Did you mean it?"

He turned around and studied her soft expression, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"That I was sorry? That I regretted it with all my life? Yes. Yes, I meant it."

Rey reached for his left forearm and watched his pale and now unscarred skin.

"You don't have to do that to yourself anymore, Ben."

"But there's much more, Rey. Much, much more that I did."

"I know there is. But it's not about hurting you anymore to atone for what you did. It never was."

Rey caressed his forearm gently, her touch tingling against his skin. Ben felt his eyelids flutter and his entire body shiver at her proximity, her sunkissed face and her beautiful brown eyes.

"I'm glad I healed these," she smiled, tracing the place where his old scars used to mar his skin. She raised her other hand and cupped his face and Ben leaned against it, savoring her warmth. "And this too."

Ben cupped her hand over his face and clutched it, kissing her fingertips as he did so. He suspected that Rey knew she had healed far more than just his physical wounds and scars. She had mended his broken heart and his shredded soul, instilling something unprecedented and earnest inside him that made him know that she had changed him for good. Ben kissed Rey, hoping that his eyes were able to convey everything he was too coward, embarrassed and inapt to say it out aloud.

"If you were really what you're thinking you are right now, you wouldn't have done it."

"Ben-"

"Dark and Light. It's how I brought you back."

Rey touched his face, tracing the silhouette of his lips and leaning her forehead against his.

"I understand it, Rey. I really do."

"I know you do, Ben."

X

The sunlight was now bathing the entire makeshift hospital and Ben knew it was only matter of minutes before Rey woke up. He had revisited that entire conversation every single day since it had occurred to a point he suspected he had already memorized all of her little reactions – from tracing patterns to picking at hems, from pursed lips to averted eyes, from her soft touch on his skin to the taste of her kiss. And in spite of the enticing sight that these remembrances brought to him, there was something else speaking in a much louder and clear sound.

It is so curious how some scars run deeper than the surface, capable of constantly reminding us of the inevitability and the reality of our pasts. And even though Ben's physical scars were no longer there to provide the reminder, although the tissue had been healed and the wounds were no more, their effects were everlasting. The memories of every single one of them were embroidered deeply and permanently in his brain. Because, in the end, that's exactly what scars are: imprinted memories.

The scar in his face from the day he had killed his Dad. The multiple scars in his left forearm from the numerous times he had resorted to physical pain to blow self-loathing, regret and guilt, to make himself truly feel his pain. The one in his chest from the day Rey had almost killed him and then saved him.

But often times, there are wounds that do not show on our bodies that are deeper and more painful than any bleeding injury. And Ben had one of those, one that ran as deep as the others, one that had bled just as painfully as the others. And he knew that the time had come to turn that wound into a scar.

Ben caught sight of Rey's quarterstaff and hoped she would not mind him taking that with him. As silently as he could, he was gone.

X

**A/N:** I would like to thank once again everyone who followed, favorited and reviewed this story! Thank you very much to biologia, maushaushase, Guest, tpnka Hanuov, Taylor323 and ToughSpirit for encouraging me to move forward, I am really glad you guys are enjoying this and thanks a lot for your lovely words. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter too – a little more introspect into Ben's memories, thoughts and feelings as we move forward with his journey. The chapter is also considerably longer too and this is why this update took longer. I hope you enjoy the parallels between the older memory and the more recent one. Please let me know your thoughts!


	6. Six

_"I imagine one of the reasons people cling to their hates so stubbornly is because they sense, once hate is gone, they will be forced to deal with pain." ― James Baldwin, The Fire Next Time_

X

Every journey always begins with the first step or so Ben had been told a long time before. As he limped across the Resistance makeshift camp and kept his eyes ahead, it became clear that taking the first step did not make that journey any less difficult. Holding Rey's quarterstaff and pushing himself forward, Ben could sense his ribs and leg screaming in protest at his lack of attention to their proper mending. However, that was a very small price to pay and he focused all his strength on gritting his teeth and carrying on his silent procession.

There were very few people out there as it was indeed very early and he suspected the Resistance was still scrambling without a clear path with the destruction of the First Order. He honestly had no idea what they would do next – nor did he care, if someone asked him. If they relied on people like Poe Dameron and FN 2187 to dictate their future… Ben muffled a snicker at the mere thought of those two giving motivating speeches to whatever was left of their unit and a sharp pang in his ribs let him know that he was still in no position to distill his full sarcasm towards the duo.

Panting heavily and feeling a trickle of sweat down his back, Ben ignored the guarded faces, silent remarks and foul glares of the few people he encountered as he kept limping focused on getting to his destination. He knew that averting his attention to something else would probably be enough to convince him that he was not ready to do what he was about to do. Yet, he suspected that was one of the things no one would be remotely ready to do.

The chirping and cricketing sounds were much clear on the outside and Ben wondered for a moment when it was the last time he had been to that sort of wilderness out of his _job_ duties. Whiffing the earthy smell of wet soil that he so happened to like and glancing briefly at the green vegetation, he realized that it had been six years since he had done so, though the specifics did not come to his mind. It was curious how his mind seemed to operate in its own rhythm sometimes, summoning random memories and refusing to allow others to come. Perhaps, much like himself, his mind did not know where it stood right now.

Even though Ben had not truly explored the Resistance basecamp, his body knew exactly where to go. In some strange way, perhaps because of a _feeling_ as Rey would describe, it was being magnetically pulled towards its final destination, one he both dreaded and anticipated. Healing sometimes works like that – an extreme pain that precedes quietness.

But now that he was standing in front of General Leia Organa's quarters, his body felt completely frozen in place as if it had spent every fiber it had in bringing him to that exact location only to refuse to go forward. Ben closed his eyes, slanting his body against Rey's quarterstaff, his chest going up and down heavily as panic started making its way up his stomach. What was he thinking? What did he want to accomplish? He did not want to be there. He had nothing to do there! What the fuck was he thinking? Why had he decided to do that?

What he truly wanted was to go back to the makeshift hospital and wait for Rey to wake up, stay sullenly in a corner as she spoke with her droid friends, throw daggers at FN 2187 from the shadows as he tried to contain the urge to eavesdrop at their hushed conversations, ignore the whatersname who brought them food every day. He wanted to ask Rey for a dream synopsis, hold her hand, kiss her and wonder if he would ever get the courage to admit to himself that he wanted to see how much more than kissing they could do.

Yet, although he could have chosen to do all of those things, he had chosen something else. He had chosen to fix that wound, turn it into a scar. A wound that had bled every single day, a wound that had throbbed silently in the dark, a wound that had troubled his nightmares, meandered through his thoughts and whispered ominously in the confines of his mind.

_"Do you know why we've named you Ben?"_

_"I know, Mom. You've already told me," he replied with a heavy sigh, rolling his eyes._

_"Then you don't need to be scared, sweetheart," she clarified, running her fingers through his hair. "You are going to be a great padawan. There's nothing to be worried about."_

_"What if I fail, Mom? What if I cannot live up to you, or Dad or Uncle Luke?"_

_"You won't fail."_

_"But what if I do?" Ben insisted, his voice breaking, eyes studying his own lap. _

_"You are my son, Ben. You have the strength to do everything you want."_

He wanted to go back, but he could not. Not that day, not when he had already taken the first step. He had already started the journey and being a very arrogant and proud man, he refused to surrender. Stars, how much of a coward he had been, how weak he had been, how many horrible and little things he had been. Yet, he could not afford to be like that, not right now, not when the time to deal with the death of his mother had come.

It was so difficult, though. It felt as if he had spent all his resolution into getting to that point only to be abandoned to loneliness, regret and second guessing upon doom's threshold.

"_I know what I have to do, but I don't know if I have the strength to do it_."

Stars, he had the strength, he knew he had it. It was there when he had spoken to his Dad. It was there when he had brought Rey back. It was there that very morning when he reminisced about his scars. It was there when he had realized how much he missed his Mom.

So he took a step forward, limping. And another. One more. Just one more, wobbling, quarterstaff in hand as if life depended on it. Yes, almost there, just another one. One more. There he was.

Ben watched in silence the empty bed upon which he knew his Mom had taken her dying breath. He kept standing from afar, revisiting his intense battle with Rey, the last time his mother had been with him. He remembered how torn he felt between giving in to his hatred for everything Rey_ stood for_ and his warmth for everything she_ was_. He remembered the buzz in his ears as he scrambled for some sort of resolution, how disgusted at himself he felt for not knowing what to do, how angry he was that she had not taken his hand, how torn he felt between fighting her and not wanting to hurt her. At that point, the shadows had approached him, tangled around his ankles, grappled on his shoulders. They had whispered upon his ears, their toxic breaths too inebriating for him to let go, their words too intoxicating for him to ignore. He could feel it coming, the impeding doom. _Nothing_ else mattered anymore.

And then _everything_ had gone quiet in the middle of that merciless ocean. The waves kept crashing violently, threateningly, but there were no sounds. Except for one. A call.

He remembered raising his head, turning around and looking ahead, away, far from the shore, beyond the horizon. Just looking and waiting, waiting and watching for the source of the call. He knew that voice, he knew that voice so well even if he had decided to pretend how much he loathed it. But his mother could not be there, she was not close, there was absolute no way for her to be there.

Still, Ben watched, lips parted, lightsaber in hand, heart thumping inside his chest. He watched and waited, and watched and waited, looking ahead and beyond. He watched and waited until he realized that the call had not come from the _outside_, and that it was not just a simple call, it was not just any call. It was the final call.

The violent waves were suddenly in slow motion, the crashing wind was suddenly nothing more than the flutter of the wings of a small insect. And yet, as everything transcended in a different speed and he too felt transported to another dimension, an infinite number of images spluttered through his brain in the seconds it took for him to realize that his mother had reached out to him one last time and given her own life to save him, to save him from himself, to save Ben Solo from Kylo Ren. The shadows had retreated at once and emptiness had taken their place, viciously, fiercely.

When Rey had stabbed him, he felt no pain. Air had long escaped his lungs, thoughts had already fled his brains, pace had previously deserted his heart. He slid down to the ground, watching but not really seeing anything, his Mom's call thumping inside his ears, her sacrifice so distant yet so close as though he had just seen her one last time through an iridescent veil.

Rey had healed him and all he had seen was a lone tear slid down her face as he wondered if he had indeed gone that far from his humanity that he could not even muster shedding a tear for his own mother. The only reason he had not given in to the emptiness threatening to spread to his entire body was that Rey had instilled him with something else, something that was simply too powerful and overwhelming for him to ignore, something that had subdued everything else and inculcated its own living Force through every part of his body, his soul. Then, as though someone or something had decided to pity the unworthy man that he was, his Dad had come, a balm to the insupportable pain, a company to the torturing loneliness.

Ben had spent the last days purposely ignoring the death of his mother because admitting that she was gone meant admitting a world of other things that were simply too much for him to bear. He knew he would have to, though. Just like he had to deal forever with the fact that he had killed his Dad. Stars, what he had done, the things he had done… Were there enough words in any language to describe the amount of pain, misery and destruction he had inflicted? Was there enough of an infinite to encompass the extent of his actions? He doubted so, he knew there was not.

His hands clutched the white sheet covering her empty bed, sensing how cold it was, how feeble it was.

_"Mama?"_

_"What is it, sweetheart?"_

_"Mama, I don't wanna sleep," he answered, pulling the white sheet until it was covering his chin._

_"Why not, Ben?"_

_"Because I don't wanna have bad dreams, Mama."_

_"That's just what they are, my Ben. Just bad dreams. They are not real. They won't get to you," she pushed his hair back and kissed his forehead, gently, her kiss lingering against his sweaty forehead._

_"Why do I have bad dreams, Mama?"_

_"Everyone has bad dreams, Ben. I do and your Dadda has them too."_

_"Not like mine, Mama," he muttered, wide-eyed, but his Mom shook her head and smiled gently._

_"Come on, Ben. Let's go to sleep. Just close your eyes and I will be right here."_

_"Even when I wake up?," he breathed out, a flash of welcome surprise spreading across his face and then morphing to disappointment at the obvious denial written in her expression._

_"Ben…"_

_"You always leave… In my nightmares, here… You and Dadda always leave me."_

His feeling towards his Mom had always been a very puzzling conundrum. That cold bed in the middle of that empty and improvised bedroom happened to be the most perfect and picturesque representation of what being the son of Leia Organa had been like. With his Dad, Han Solo, Ben's feelings had always been very straightforward. From a very young age, Ben knew that Han was not ready to be a parent and that his way of coping was to keep his sense of adventure alive, navigate the entire galaxy looking for unconventional missions and come home occasionally, bringing Ben small treasures and trinkets to narrate his courageous tales. It was very easy to hate what Han represented – abandonment and neglect.

It had always been a complete different story with his Mom. Leia was the embodiment of the Light – brave, witty, kind and clever. Even if Han was the adventurous one, it was Leia's adventures which truly and ultimately mattered. She was a shining beacon of hope for a better world – for everyone, but him. It was much more difficult for him to hate what Leia represented – the fact that he was nothing more than an afterthought.

Was there the sense of abandonment and neglect with Leia? Absolutely. Did he often wonder whether he too was an afterthought for Han? Of course he did. But there was such a difference between having one parent who was always away and another one who was not but who was completely _unreachable_.

When Han was home, Ben was always his world. When Leia was home, Ben wished she was not because it was a constant reminder that not even when she was there, he meant something. There was always someone or something more important. There was always someone or something needing her help. There was always someone of something to work on as part of the greater good. There was always someone or something in between Leia and Ben. There was always someone or something.

An afterthought, that was the best way to describe how it felt like to be his Mom's son.

_"Why do you have to go?"_

_"Ben, we have already had this conversation. They need me."_

_"Are they stupid or something? Why can't they leave you alone?," Ben threw his hands in the air, turning around and feeling his entire body tremble in frustration. _

_"Don't be selfish, Ben," she reprimanded him sternly. "The Senate needs your mother."_

_"I'm tired of spending all the time with damn C-3PO!"_

_"Language, Ben. C-3PO likes you, so be nice to him."_

_"He's a droid, he doesn't like me, he was just designed to respond to the way I treat him," he shot back with a scowl, hands balled to his side._

_"Never under-"_

_"Never underestimate a droid. Yes, I know. Maybe you should go. Someone else probably needs you."_

Yet, she stood for the exact opposite – friendship, bravery, kindness. Leia had always been a mother to everyone but to himself.

In spite of everything, hating his Mom was much more difficult than hating his Dad. Han was never around, his lack of presence made every reason Ben resented him much more obvious, much more tangible. However, Leia's neglect was hidden beneath a mask of honor, goodness and Light. Ben used to spend every night revisiting his interactions with her, second guessing his words, wondering whether he should have said or done something different. He had grown insecure, afraid of himself, constantly thinking that there was definitely something wrong about him if not even his Mom, who was _there_ every day, was capable of being _there for him_.

_"Ben, I know you're still awake," she whispered and he kept his eyes squeezed shut. "Ignoring me will not work, sweetheart, nor throwing tantrums in the middle of dinner."_

_"Why does he come back? Why does he bother coming back if he's just going to leave anyway?"_

_"Your Dad loves you, Ben," she began as she always did, but her cut her immediately._

_"Yes, he just happens to love his stupid adventures and Chewie more."_

_"That's not true, my Ben," she retorted with a hint of sadness in her voice. _

_"Don't act as if you are much better. You're just like him, Mom."_

He had grown up to become a festered, swollen fruit watered with misery and pain, rooted in bitterness, its branches all chafed and broken. Loneliness had become his constant state of being, forged in a childhood whose landscape had this apparent beauty to the outsiders, but that reeked of hideousness upon closer inspection. Still, as he gripped the white sheet tightly, twisting it in his hands, jaw trembling as he contemplated the empty bed, he knew that he had never mustered to honestly and truly hate his Mom.

Because there were times when she had been a friend, when she had sided with him as heavy trials had suddenly fallen upon him or when the shadows had thickened around his frail body. There were times when she had been there to dissipate the clouds of darkness and cling kindly to his hand when his nightmares had been too much to handle. There were words of love and affection, lullabies, quiet hugs, his head pressed against the crook of her neck, a warm bowl of his favorite soup whenever she arrived home late at night, a smirk gracing her features whenever he matched his Dad's witty remarks when he was home.

No matter how much he wanted to resent his Mom, he knew and felt her deep love for him.

Ben opened his eyes and stared at the empty bed, his breathing shallow and quiet. He touched the fabric with his open hand, trying to feel something other than the coldness and emptiness of that place. When there was no response, he averted his eyes angrily, but then they caught sight of something on her nightstand and Ben limped to the other side, his brows furrowed in absolute haze upon what his eyes were seeing.

It was his old calligraphy set.

It was missing a few pens, the edges were a bit ragged, but he could never really forget how that looked like. Ben's mouth opened in amazement and surprise; the last time he had seen that set was when Luke Skywalker had come for him in the middle of the night and the Jedi Temple had crumbled above them. He thought he would never see that again and his chest constricted at the thought that Leia had kept that token for so long. But as his eyes studied the object and his mind debated between taking that with him or leaving it on her nightstand, he saw an envelope below the set, his name written on it in a handwriting he knew far too well.

Ben stretched his hand involuntarily and then pulled it back immediately. What was he doing? Was he really going to fall for that? He remembered very well writing her every week during Jedi Training, waiting for her answers, inquiring Luke Skywalker if there were any letters for him. He remembered even better her vague replies, how her handwriting had often looked rushed as if she had snatched the closest sheet and scribbled her replies in a hurry. He remembered spending almost a month without any reply when he was twelve, then two months when he was thirteen and then forever when he had decided to stop making himself look like a fool. Now, however, there was a letter addressed to him, one he had definitely not asked for. Why?

_"You stopped writing, Ben. What happened?"_

_"I've been busy, Mom," he lied, avoiding her knowing look._

_"I miss your letters, dear," she took his hands between hers and squeezed them. "But I suppose you're not a little boy anymore, are you?"_

_"No, I suppose I'm not," he smiled albeit reluctantly as Leia pulled him to a hug._

His eyes studied the envelope for another minute, his heart hammering inside his chest in anticipation. No matter how much he wanted to ignore that letter, maybe set it on fire or shred it to pieces, he could not shake himself out of helplessness. There were so many half-tones coming to his mind right now – longing for her impossible letters, wondering about her would-be answers, feeling nostalgic about their almost conversations. Afterthoughts, never really here, never really there, never really anywhere.

Ben was now gazing ahead, away, far from the shore, beyond the horizon. He could remember her call, he could remember the softness in the way she had reached for him, the undeniable love from her ultimate sacrifice. Then, he was sitting at the edge of her empty bed and opening the envelope before Dark had its chance to stop him.

Ben would have regretted forever if he had not done so.

_"Ben,_

_My sweetheart, my son, the love of my life. _

_You are probably wondering why I have not come to you in person. The opportunity for us to meet again will come, but the reason I have decided to write you a letter is quite simple. I wanted you to have something from me that you have always wanted. _

_I am very sorry for everything, my Ben. A day has not gone by without me regretting not being there for you as I should have. I know I am in no position to ask for forgiveness – it was my choice after all to care for the greater good. In doing so, I forgot to take care of my greatest good – you. _

_The signs were there, they were always there. And upon seeing them, I cast myself out, outsourced the resolution, blamed my inability of coping with them on the absence of your Dad and the need for me elsewhere. I was not there when you needed me the most. I will not be arrogant to the point of assuming everything was my fault, but I know it was for the most part. I thought I was making a difference, but that is just the way with arrogance and pride. Where I was needed the most, the only difference I was making was for the worst. _

_I thought that loving you was enough, I thought that letting you know how much I loved you was enough. I was wrong. Love is not just a word you say. Love is not something you simply feel. Love is about taking care, replenishing it, watering it, tending to it. Love without care withers, wears, tarnishes, dies._

_I am very sorry about the burdens you had to carry by yourself and the aching heart you had to bear in silence. I know you got lost, my son, and I know you are finding your way back. I have forgiven you and so has your Dad. Forgive yourself too. Be patient. Be strong. Be kind to yourself. The journey will not be easy, but you do have the strength. When it wavers, have hope. _

_Remember how strong and unconditional my love for you is; you are the only one who knows how my heart sounds from the inside. _

_I hope that one day you are truly able to forgive me, my son. _

_Love,_

_Mom."_

It began with a whimper. Then a tremble to his jaw. Then quivers to his shoulders. Then his hands felt like they were no longer made of flash and bones. A droplet of moisture, a salty wetness. Then a long sob and a stream of tears took him over.

He cried, cried, cried and cried and each tear that streamed down his face contained a world of pain and meaning. He cried as he remembered sleeping on his Mom's lap the first time he had lost a tooth. He cried as he remembered the way her Mom beamed every time he finished reading a book. He cried as he remembered the time he had screamed she should have never had a son if she preferred spending time working. He cried as he remembered reading her two-sentence reply to his two-paragraph letter. He cried as he remembered sensing his Mom's presence aboard the Raddus and contemplating destroying her ship. He cried as he remembered the last time he had told his Mom he loved her.

And as each tear made its way down his face, so did the pain. A monster had just dug its claws deep through his chest, ripped it in two, pressed its paws against the open wound, tearing his insides apart. It ached, burned, throbbed, ached, hurt so excruciatingly, so violently. And then the monster gave up on his chest and made way for his throat and suddenly he could no longer breathe, he was drowning in a sea of brutal sobs and then the monster clawed upon his neck and choked him, broke him, torn him apart.

He kept crying and crying, each tear feeling like it was bringing him closer to death, weakening him, cleansing every good and every bad from his aching heart, from his miserable soul. The memories were there too, the remembrances, the what-ifs and the would-bes. The smiles, the hugs, the words. The frowns, the loneliness, the silence. The weeps, the mistakes, the regrets.

There was absolute no beauty to it. Often times, pain is poetized, romanticized as if feeling it suddenly casts the bearer apart from everyone else, as if a broken heart grants instant merit. Yet, there is no beauty to feeling your soul displace from your body, to the unbearable agony, to choking on words, to weeping so hard that you wonder if there is still anything left to your withering body.

So, Ben cried. He cried like he had never cried before. He cried until it was too much and then a little more, and a little more again. He cried even when the memories were so overwhelming that they were nothing more than blurs. He cried even in spite of not knowing where he was anymore. He cried to the point in which doing something other than crying seemed part of a foreign concept. He cried until the emptiness to his eyes matched the emptiness that had always lied within.

When his sobs finally subsided, he felt drained, empty, yet strangely whole.

She had come. His Mom had come. To save him, to let him know that she loved him, that she had forgiven him, that she would always be there, that she was sorry. To let him know that she cared. To let him know how much she loved him and had never stopped doing so.

Yes, there would always be a past. The memories would always be there, they would always come back to haunt him. There would always be a wound, a scar. Yet, much like all the others that had been branded upon his skin, it would too fade away.

Perhaps the beauty comes once the pain is gone and you are able to look back and understand that something has been purged, that the wallowing despair has been cleansed and that each tear has made you remarkably stronger, not weaker. Perhaps the beauty comes upon realizing the unending paradox that everyone learns from pain.

Ben clutched the letter firm on his left hand, drying his eyes with the back of his right hand. He took one deep breath, and another, and one more, another one and another and another.

_"Mom?"_

_"Yes, sweetheart?"_

_"I've missed you."_

_"I missed you too."_

_"What?" Ben asked upon seeing her unreadable look as she studied his face in silence._

_"Sometimes I forget that you are a man now, Ben."_

_"Age is just a number," he replied with a shrug and she chuckled. "I love you, Mom."_

_"I love you too, my Ben. Always and forever."_

Ben no longer had to look ahead, away, far from the shore, beyond the horizon to find his Mom. He no longer had to watch and wait. A call was no longer needed. His Mom was there and she would always be with him. Always and forever.

X

**A/N:** I would like to thank everyone who followed, favorited and reviewed this story. Honestly, seeing the way you guys are responding to it and the words of encouragement is really beautiful. Thank you maushaushase, pgoodrichboggs, writeemily, Guest, Taylor323 and coribyru3024 for saying such lovely things about this story. Ben's arc always seemed very heartbreaking and coming to terms to who he was/is is very tough.

This has been the hardest chapter to write so far and I really hope you guys enjoy it. Their relationship always seemed very complex to me and I hope I have been able to convey how layered it is as well as the implications it is going to have as Ben moves forward. It is mostly focused on Ben considering how personal it is. Please let me know your thoughts.


	7. Seven

_"It's enough for me to be sure that you and I exist at this moment." ― Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude_

X

"Ben?"

Ben had already sensed Rey's presence before she had entered his Mom's quarters and he could not express how grateful he felt that she was there. If there was anyone else in that entire galaxy who he wanted to be with in that moment, it had to be her, even if he was too embarrassed to look at her with his red and swollen eyes or say much more than monosyllables.

"Rey," he replied without looking up, folding his Mom's letter and tucking it inside his pocket.

The moment Rey had woken up and took notice of her whereabouts, her eyes had fallen immediately on Ben's bed and a wave of panic mixed with sadness began bubbling on her insides. Her eyes had scanned the rest of the makeshift hospital as she looked for a sign that he had simply gone away for some moment, perhaps to use the bathroom, but then she realized that her quarterstaff was missing too. That meant only one thing: he was gone.

Rey's stomach had dropped and a multitude of scenarios explaining why he had done that were suddenly bursting in front of her eyes. In that moment, pretty much awake, she had leapt out of her bed, put on her boots and dashed outside, her eyes going everywhere. It was not as though she was actually surprised Ben had left – honestly, she knew he had no intention whatsoever of staying there. Yet, she had assumed he would wait until he was fully recovered and that he would at least tell her. He did not come across as someone who would simply disappear with the excuse that he was too overwhelmed with emotion to have the courage to say goodbye or that he was afraid he was going to break her heart. He probably deemed that behavior to _lesser people_, she thought, forcing a smile. Ben would have told her, perhaps even wondered if she wanted to go with him.

However, as she ran outside to begin her investigation, realization dawned upon her and she felt stupid for her clear obliviousness.

In her panic, she had completely overlooked the fact that she still sensed Ben's presence nearby. Rey paused, took a long and deep breath, closed her eyes and looked for the source of that feeling. It was there, it was really there, yet it was draped in something so raw and heartbreaking that she could feel it in her bones, in her heart, in her soul. It throbbed, ached, it was overwhelmingly earnest and so different from anything she had felt from Ben, especially because it did not reek of Dark, it was not laced in the shadows. It was different, yet real, _raw_. Rey opened her eyes, drying them with the back of her hand and realized that she too felt enveloped in pain.

If those were Ben's feelings right now, there was only one place he could be.

So now Rey found herself studying his plummeted shoulders and lowered head, not knowing exactly what to say. Perhaps there was nothing she could say, she was certainly aware that no words would ever be able to provide any consolation to that particular situation. Rey knew how hard that moment must be, how torn and brokenhearted he felt – she had felt it upon reaching out for him. In that very moment, words seemed more like a formality, a pretext, pale shadows of feelings, echoes of intentions. Rey knew there was much more to offer him than that and she sat down beside Ben, lowering her head on his shoulder and taking his hand on hers.

They kept quiet for some time as an odd veil of serenity began dawning upon their heads, slowly but steady. The shallow sound of his breathing and an occasional sniff were the only sounds Rey could hear as Ben still avoided her eyes and she studied their intertwined fingers, realizing how much she liked his hands and the feeling of holding them.

"I am sorry I, huh, _borrowed_ your quarterstaff," he broke the silence in an apologetic tone.

"I thought you had stolen it," she admitted, pulling her head from his shoulder and glancing at the object he had on his lap.

"I… I left on a whim," he explained in a mumble and Rey nodded, knowing he had not said anything to her as not to lose the courage.

"What do you have there?"

"It's my old calligraphy set," he replied, handing her the object with his eyes still lowered.

Rey took the object in her hands and watched it in amazement. She had never seen something quite like it, so delicate and ancient-looking at the same time. Sometimes she forgot that Ben had been not only a Jedi Apprentice but also the son of a Princess. Rey could not help but feel oddly belittled by her humble upbringing, one in which the closest she had ever gotten to something like that object was a broken basin she had once spotted in the salvage yard.

"It's beautiful," she breathed out, giving it back to Ben, who took it without looking at her and placed it atop Leia's bed.

"I hadn't seen it since… since the night I left," he muttered, swallowing hard.

Rey got up and stood in front of him, then cupped his face with both of her hands. Unwillingly, embarrassed, he looked up and allowed Rey to see his eyes, those puffed and bloodshot eyes which were unequivocal evidences of his vulnerability. Rey had already seen him cry before, she was no stranger to his tears. This time, though, it was different. There was such a sense of rawness as if he was bearing his soul naked in front of her. Rey had always seen through him, but that was different. It was different from anything else he had ever felt – the vulnerability, the earnestness.

However, upon gazing at her brown eyes, Ben realized immediately that he did not need to feel concerned about her reaction or ashamed of his helplessness. There was no judgment or pity. There were no hollow words or invasive questions. Instead, Rey had that same fierceness that made any words seem absolutely irrelevant, that look that was much deeper than a simple reassurance that everything would be alright. She was there, she was _really _there and that was precisely what he needed.

Rey's soft hands pulled him closer and he leaned his head against her chest, his ears listening to the rhythm of her heartbeats and feeling her breath upon his head. They remained in silence once again, her hands running over his hair and his arms hugging her tightly. There truly are some things that words fall short of and a comfortable silence lulled by quiet heartbeats sometimes speaks louder than anything else. The silence resonated ever so peacefully around them as if it had a life of its own, quiet in words, but loud in feelings.

That was it. All he needed was for her to be there with him. And she was. She truly was.

And now, two weeks after that heartfelt moment, Ben saw himself staring at the ceiling of the tent he had been brought to after managing to fully recover from his wounds. It was the middle of the night and he had woken up after a particular nasty nightmare that thankfully he forgot about seven minutes after opening his eyes. Still, going back to sleep now that he was very conscious of how small his sleeping bag was seemed absolutely impossible.

Ben had been brought there just that morning and he immediately disliked the place upon sight. The ceiling was too low, there was too much light invading the place and the walls made him feel strangely claustrophobic. Perhaps that was the downside of sleeping in a tent in the middle of a makeshift camp, especially one which had been placed in the farthest corner of the courtyard as if the Resistance wanted to make it obvious that he was not one of them. He felt his respect for them lessen more if that was even possible; if they really had any notion of how to handle a prisoner, his tent would have been placed in the middle of everyone else's as to ensure he did not escape. Brains was not their strong suit and he had yet to find what that was.

The only solace in that poorly decorated, claustrophobic and primitive place was the fact that Rey had decided to place her own sleeping bag beside his. It had made the space even more suffocating, yet it was a breath of fresh air at the same time. Not to mention that it had been very entertaining to watch the outraged expression that had sprouted in Poe Dameron's features upon her decision, but thankfully he had spared them from any of his ill-conceived speeches and allowed FN 2187 to drape an arm around his shoulders and take him somewhere else.

Rey had given him a knapsack and now his calligraphy set and the letter from his Mom were guarded there, the only two belongings that were really his in the middle of a multitude of borrowed and secondhand stuff he had been given at the Resistance camp.

"Are you awake?"

"Yes," he answered after a slight wince at Rey's sudden question.

"Care to go for a walk?"

"Rey, do you know what time it is?"

"Do you?"

"No."

"Good, then let's go for a walk."

"In the middle of the night?"

"Do you have any other plans?"

He thought about saying going back to sleep, but he knew he was simply too conscious now to do so. Even in the dark, he could picture a smug grin gracing Rey's features and he found himself rolling his eyes.

"Fine," he agreed, pulling his legs and trying to find his boots in the middle of the dark.

"I have a flashlight," she announced excitedly, clicking the object as Ben put on his boots.

"Is it, huh, _borrowed_?" Ben teased, regarding the object with one raised eyebrow.

"Stolen," she replied with a nonchalant shrug without missing a beat. She was up as if she too had been awake for some time and then approached the entrance of the tent, motioning for him to follow her with her quarterstaff. He found his knapsack and got up.

"I thought I was not allowed to leave anymore. Am I not a prisoner of the Resistance?"

"Oh, but you are," she replied cheerfully as he lowered his head not to hit the ceiling. Judging by her smirk, Rey found it very funny that he, the mighty _former_ Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, was a prisoner of the noble Resistance.

"Then why are we leaving, ah, _imprisonment_ in the middle of the night?"

"Because I don't have much of a regard for rules."

"Really? That's shocking," he scoffed, scratching his nose and muffling a snort.

"And you know, _this_ is the Resistance. We are rebels," she went on with energy and a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. Upon seeing his raised eyebrows in skepticism and almost offense, Rey added with a frown, "I mean, there are _some_ of us who are. Not you, of course."

"You look too cheerful there, Rey. When have you grown so comfortable around me?"

"Around the time you ditched brooding menacingly upon my sight."

"See. Exactly my point."

"I can always go back to kicking your ass," she turned around, quarterstaff in hand, and narrowed her eyes.

"Yes, do keep on being delusional," Ben walked past Rey through the opening of the tent with an expression in his face too reminiscent of his Kylo Ren persona. The effect was only ruined by the nonchalant straightening of his back, but the difference was like day and night.

"When have _you_ grown so comfortable around me?" Rey shot back with a glare.

"Around the time you ditched glaring stubbornly at me, though I am inclined to resort to my old ways right now," he responded with a smirk that instantly melted Rey's glare off.

They walked in silence for some minutes, Rey lightning the flashlight every once in a while, to show them the way. He decided not to ask where exactly they were going even if he was mildly curious about where she was leading him. As long as he was with Rey, even meeting FN 2187 and Poe Dameron did not seem such a horrifying experience, although clearly an intellect-reducing one. Besides, he was used to being with Rey in odd hours, after all, it had been precisely those times they had spoken as they began experimenting the effects of their Force Connection.

As they started making their way out of the Resistance camp, they caught sight of two men guarding the entrance and Rey immediately clicked the flashlight off and handed it to him. Ben wondered for a moment which excuse Rey was going to provide and even entertained himself at the thought of Rey hitting them with her quarterstaff when she stepped forward confidently and approached the duo.

"It's okay that we are here," she waved her hand dismissively in front of them.

"It's okay that you are here," they repeated at the same time in a boring tone, their eyes unfocused.

"You are relieved that we are here."

"We are relieved that you are here."

Rey looked over her shoulder with glee and Ben merely gaped at her. After a moment in which he was too stunned to move his legs, he walked past the two guards whose vague expressions indicated they could not care less about any of them and followed her heels. He was simply too dumbfounded to tell her anything and it was not after walking silently for another seven minutes that he finally found his voice again.

"How Jedi of you to use the Force to manipulate their minds," he told her with amusement.

"I _am_ all the Jedi, but I never actually finished Jedi Training, so I have no idea what you are talking about."

Ben snickered and shook his head while Rey beamed at him. They resumed their silent march and Rey lighted the flashlight once again as they entered more deeply into the woods. It was very dark and the light was barely enough to illuminate a couple of feet ahead, but the path was relatively smooth and steady. She seemed to be familiar with the place and kept walking forward with the ease of someone who had already explored that scenario a couple of times and knew each shortcut and obstacle by heart. Ben had his eyes squinted, very much aware of the sounds of the creatures lurking in the shadows and wondering if maybe their feet stepping occasionally on a branch would startle them. Still, it was hardly needed because nothing came their way and they simply kept walking under the cold night breeze, their scents invaded by the pleasant smell of the forest.

The path suddenly took a left and started going down, the trees now becoming shorter, smaller and growing more apart. Now, Ben could see the starry sky above their heads, its darkness peeking through the treetops and branches as they kept walking, his eyes scanning their surroundings and still focused on checking if they were really alone. Finally, Rey stalled, and he almost collided with her, his ears registering the sound of running water nearby.

Even with the flashlight, it took his eyes some seconds to adjust to this new scenario. They were by the edge of a river, the pleasant earthy smell and the sound of running water invading his scents immediately. There was a huge rock formation on the opposite side cutting tall and dark against the sky, its silhouettes looking regal and imposing. It was a nice and peaceful setting even in the middle of the dark, but he still could not understand why Rey had deemed that appropriate for a night stroll.

"I would ask where we are, but I take there is not a name for this place," he glanced at Rey.

"It's just somewhere I used to come when I was training," Rey answered, sitting cross-legged on the ground and smiling.

"In the middle of the night?"

"It's easier to be at peace."

Ben sat down beside Rey with his knees up and leaned forward, placing the knapsack to his left. Then, he draped his arms over his knees and allowed his eyes to set on the dark silhouettes of the edge of the river and the boulders across them just as silent and blurry reminiscences began forming in the back of his mind. His gaze shifted to the sky and he watched the stars quietly for some moments.

A flash of green light. The echo of a scream. Widened eyes. Debris. Dust. Despair. Anger.

He often wondered if he would ever be able to remember everything about that night. As every day went by, it was as if the recollections grew greyer, quieter, blurrier. But not the stars, not the starry sky under which his eyes had seen that storm take over the Jedi Temple, the blazing fire devouring everything it touched, the very inferno swallowing life.

"This is the first time I watch the stars, _really_ watch the stars, after that night," Ben mumbled, licking his lips.

"Really?" Rey breathed out with a puzzled expression.

"Yes. I remember leaving the ruins of my room and going outside, looking up the sky and watching the stars. I kept watching them and I remember I couldn't stop watching them even though I was so angry at _his_ betrayal," Ben explained with an even voice, massaging his chin and looking up. "Now it feels as though it happened in another life."

"Do you still think about that night?"

"Less and less every time," Ben responded, placing his forearms now over his knees and leaning even more forward, his eyes up and steady. "For some time, though, it was all I could think about."

"It changed everything, didn't it?" Rey inquired with a whisper, throwing the flashlight from one hand to another and watching him with anxious eyes.

"I suppose it did. Before… Before that day… I had _questions_," he replied, scratching an index finger on his thumb and fidgeting with a stubborn piece of skin around his nail. He kept digging and digging until he finally removed it with a particular painful sting that fortunately did not bleed. "Then _it_ happened and the answer flashed in front of my eyes in the form of a green lightsaber. _His_ lightsaber. Then I turned to Snoke."

"Snoke was manipulating you all along, Ben," she said in a low voice, stopping her movements to watch his answer, her brows furrowed in anticipation.

"I know. Back then, though, he had all of the answers."

And he did. He really did. He had answers to his loneliness, to his second guesses, to his anger, to his crave for power, to his feelings of neglect and abandonment, to his weakness.

"Did you ever like him?"

"In a way. It feels good to think you're special, that someone gets you. It feels good to have power."

"It does, it really does," Rey admitted with a wan smile and Ben smiled too with understanding and then he summoned the flashlight in his hand, twirling it around his fingers with that natural skill Rey had often begrudged.

"I don't regret it, though. Killing him, that is. I would have done it again."

"You are not a murderer, Ben," Rey sighed, stretching her legs in front of her.

"I don't remember every person I have ever killed, Rey. I guess that makes me a murderer."

They remained in silence as Ben's words reverberated around them. Rey watched him quietly, her thoughts clouded with the meaning of his words. Ben was right – he was a murderer. He had killed and inflicted pain upon so many people, herself included. Although she knew fairly well that he had been misguided, lost his way, he had still done it. And yet, she had not wanted to save him _because_ of it, but _in spite of_ it.

Often times, Rey had found herself going over his actions as Kylo Ren and her undisputable hope that Ben Solo was not Kylo Ren, that Ben Solo still fought for his life beneath the veil of menace, power and hatred that Kylo Ren had used to smother him. She knew the tricks played by the Dark, their seductive words, their appealing promises, their enticing talents. He had fallen and she could not blame him for doing so. Resisting that tantalizing tempting temptress had seemed so impossible, so tiring and gut-wrenching that sometimes it had occurred to her to just give in just to shut the voices and ease the coldness. And Ben had been a boy, a boy who had only experimented loneliness, neglect, abandonment and disappointment from his own Mom and Dad, a boy who had seen his own Uncle and Master, the very person who was supposed to guide him, try to kill him just because he had glimpsed the darkness within.

"But you are not a monster."

Ben turned around, lips parted and looked at Rey as if he could not believe his eyes.

"I haven't watched the stars since that day. I was outside, watching them that night after _he_ tried to kill me. I was lost, angry, miserable, alone. I was so, so fucking angry, Rey. Like it was tearing me apart, eating me from the inside. Then it all happened, _it _happened out of nowhere before I could do anything to stop it. That Hell, that inferno, and I was left there just to watch it. Now, however, it is like the memories fade more every day."

"You know none of that was your fault," Rey clung to his elbow, her eyes fierce.

"I know," he responded with a heavy sigh and Rey saw the stars reflected in his tired eyes. "Now I know it wasn't. But afterwards… I spent so much time going through everything, it haunted me every day for so many years, Rey. I knew those people, those kids, I knew each and every one of them. For so many years, I thought it was my fault, that that storm had come from me or that I could have saved them, prevented what happened to them."

"You couldn't."

"I know that now. There are many horrible things that I did and I would happily take the blame for them. But not this. That's not on me. I know I couldn't have stopped that storm no matter how much I wanted to. I know that was not my fault. I know I didn't kill the other students, I know their deaths is not my fault. I know I couldn't have stopped it. I did not have that power. It's not on me."

"It's not on anyone, Ben."

"It is, Rey. You know it is," he snapped, flaring his nostrils.

"Ben…"

Instead of answering her, Ben laid down on his back, folding one arm and resting his head over it. He kept gazing at the stars, studying their patterns and feeling oddly satisfied at himself for still knowing their names. In spite of clearly wanting to argue with him, Rey laid beside him, placing her head on his chest and tucking a hand under his shirt where it rested softly against his skin. Ben tried not to shiver at her touch and make it so obvious how much he relished her boldness, but he failed miserably at his effort. If Rey noticed, however, she decided to keep that to herself and for a few more minutes, they remained in that position, Rey's head going up and down as he breathed in and out.

"Is it odd that despite all of this I still feel as if I don't belong here?"

Her voice was muffled against his shirt, but Ben heard the question very clearly. Furrowing his brows, he started rubbing his fingertips on her bare arm, eyes still glued on the starry sky above them, but his ruminations now gone as he listened to her words.

"All my life, I wanted not to be alone. I wanted a place to call home, really call home. Now I am surrounded by these people, my friends, and I still don't feel home at all."

Ben felt her breath touch the fabric of his clothing and then she stopped moving her hand under his shirt as if she was figuring out what she wanted to say, as if she was afraid of saying it out loud.

"I have tried every day to act normal, to act as though I am home. But I am not."

Silence fell between them once again, but it was not peaceful this time. Rey seemed strangled by it, the words clearly fighting to leave her mouth, but Ben could see embarrassment, confusion and frustration making her swallow what she wanted to say. He knew why and he could not bear that torturing sight. He decided to speak for her.

"You are leaving." It was not a question.

Rey flinched and slowly, very slowly, Ben saw her move her head and nod in confirmation.

"You plan to do the same."

"Yes, I do. This is not my place, Rey."

"This is not my place either, Ben."

"I wonder if there are any places we could ever call ours," he sighed with a lopsided smile.

"I don't know," she responded with a deep sigh, letting go of his stomach and propping herself on her elbows on the ground so that their faces were now inches apart.

Ben found himself realizing that her face was devoid of her usual fierceness and stubbornness. Instead, he saw the questions, the second guesses, the utter sense of _loss_ he had always felt mirrored in her eyes, those brown eyes he would never grow tired of. Perhaps each of them had their own ways of being vulnerable, of baring their souls naked, of showing that raw earnestness that came from pouring their hearts open. That was definitely Rey's.

"The only thing I know is that _this_ isn't _it_. I _hated_ Jakku, I absolutely hated that place, how dirty it was, how I felt disgusted at myself for feeling constantly all sweaty and dirty and having to scramble for scraps to have something to eat and the horrible taste in the back of my mouth when I was simply too thirsty or too hungry to function. I hated what I had to do for a living, pretending that that was normal just so I could rest my mind. I hated feeling so lonely, counting the days since my parents had left and talking to my doll so that I didn't feel my voice was going to disappear for lack of use," she went on, her voice inflexible, her eyes intense. "But now I am here, in this beautiful place where none of these concerns make any sense whatsoever. And I still feel like I don't belong here, Ben."

"You won't find what you're looking for unless you find yourself first, Rey."

Years after that episode, Ben would not forget the way Rey's eyes widened, her lips parted and her face softened upon hearing his words, her expression morphing from dusk to dawn. He had never given much thought to the difference between dusk and dawn - it had always looked the same to him. Dark swallowing Light. Light swallowing Dark. Now, however, he saw all the difference in the world.

That was it. All she needed was for him to be there with her. And he was. He truly was.

Silence grew once again around them, drawing them together in that mysterious and fascinating paradoxical way. And all the while, her eyes shone in front of him, watching him in such an intimate way that Ben felt transfixed by her gaze as if the only thing he could see in the entire galaxy were her eyes watching him with wonder, gratitude and something else he judged himself too unworthy of.

"Do you think I can do that?" Rey breathed out, her voice slightly broken.

"Yes."

Ben lied on his side, tucked a strand of hair behind Rey's ear and brushed a thumb over her lips, a question escaping his lips with the subtlety of an earthquake.

"Can I come with you?"

How could such a simple question comprise such a world of meanings?

"After all that time stalking me, having me tied up so we can have a _chat_ and now you're asking for permission?" Rey laughed and just like it had happened the day he had brought her back, Ben realized once again how easy it was to smile when Rey was around.

"You know the only reason I did that was to get you to listen to me. And that I am sorry."

"I know, Ben. I'm just messing with you."

"You haven't answered," he insisted after a minute, the lump in his throat growing in anticipation to her answer.

"Why do you ask?"

"Because if you say no, I won't go, Rey. There are paths one must follow alone."

And he was serious, he was categorically serious. No matter how hard it would be if Rey left, no matter how much he would miss her and everything about her, if Rey really thought that was her journey, he would not go with her. There were answers one had to find by themselves, there were paths one had to walk alone, there were journeys that belonged only to oneself. And she would not be gone, not really. Their bond was simply too irrevocable. Whatever souls were made of, theirs were the same.

Still, Ben could not help but marvel at her answer.

"You can come with me, Ben. Ours paths are one now."

That was it. All they needed was for each of them to be there with each other. And they were. They truly were. A dyad in the Force. Two that were one.

X

**A/N:** thank you to everyone who followed, favorited and reviewed last chapter. I am so happy by everyone's reactions and kind words. The fact that it had such an impact on people is very baffling but at the same time it gives me the encouragement to keep going with this story. Thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter. Thanks Lsquared1501, EleveOsirian, maushaushase, AraelDranoth, Guest and dawnofsummer. We will rely a lot on Ben's memories as he comes to terms with himself and, of course, each of those memories wakes a particular feeling and raises more questions or brings more answers.

Now, with the seventh chapter, I wanted to touch upon a memory that he has already dealt with previously and without Rey, that is, the Jedi Temple. Even though Kylo Ren was a villain, not everything was his doing and I wanted to shine light on the fact that Ben gets that, that he doesn't intend to become a martyr and that in spite of trying to redeem himself, there are still layers and nuances that do not necessarily mean Ben is perfect or flawless. Besides, dealing with that without Rey shows he can too grow by his own will. Also, this chapter is a bit lighter though dark in its own ways. My intention was never for them to stay with the Resistance – there's still a lot of soul searching for them to do. And my interpretation of them being a dyad in the Force is that their paths are the same. Anyway, I digress. Please let me know your thoughts.


	8. Eight

_"A painter should begin every canvas with a wash of black, because all things in nature are dark except where exposed by the light."― Leonardo da Vinci_

X

_"So when do we leave?"_

_"Soon."_

Upon hearing those words and based on his knowledge about Rey and especially the people she unexplainably cared about, Ben thought that soon probably meant five days or so. That would give her plenty of time to bid farewell to everyone and ignore their stupid and narrow-sighted pleas that she indeed belonged there, that she was home as long as she was with those who cared about her and, of course, that it was extremely dangerous and irrational to embark on _anything_ with Supreme Leader Kylo Ren. He was wrong, as per usual. Now, a mere two days after her decision, they were packing their belongings (in his case, his knapsack filled with his old calligraphy set and the letter from his Mom) and would be leaving in just a couple of hours.

Rey had spent the last two days training with her quarterstaff in front of their tent while he sat on the ground and watched her movements in silence, right hand wrapped around his left forearm. Ben missed the thrill of training and fighting and wondered whether their journey would lead them somewhere he could still do that. Although he despised his old lightsaber for everything it encompassed, he somehow missed the feeling of holding the metallic hilt and the excitement of watching the glowing plasma blade, the way his body had always reacted to an object that was synonymous with raw power and skill. Rey, of course, had two lightsabers of her own now, but he suspected that would not be for long. Unless he was absolutely mistaken – and he doubted he was – Rey was not going to keep them. He had an inkling suspicion that one of her plans for their journey was to dispose of his grandfather's and his Mom's lightsabers _somewhere_. Ben could not blame her for wanting to do that.

He had not had a chance to confirm his suspicions, though. After returning from their night stroll, Rey had taken on an aura of deep introspection in which their interactions revolved around him watching her train in silence or the two of them holding hands or embracing each other before sleep consumed their bodies. The only times she had left his company had been simply too short and too uneventful for her to have unveiled her plans to Poe Dameron, FN 2187 or her droid friends. Ben supposed her demeanor had everything to do with that. He did not mind it, to be perfectly honest, even if he could not quite understand why she cared so much about those people.

That very morning, however, had been different. When Ben had woken up because of the excessive light invading their tent, Rey was already dressed and in the process of braiding her hair. He spent two entire minutes watching her fidget unsuccessfully with the strands of hair, her brows furrowed in concentration, before he finally opened his mouth.

_"Do you need any help with that?" Ben had asked, stretching his arms above his head and then proceeding to press a particularly sore spot on the nape of his neck._

_"You know how to do it?" Rey had retorted and as she watched him nod with a dumbfounded expression, she had added, "How?"_

_"I used to braid Chewie's hair when I was a kid," he had answered in a muttered tone, fiddling with the hem of his sleeve and Rey's eyes had widened at the confession. "Come here."_

_Rey had smiled shyly and then sat down in between his legs. Ben pulled her hair back, combing it slowly and softly with his long fingers, unaware of the way Rey closed her eyes and reveled in the feeling of his touch, of those hands she was so incredibly fond of. They sat in silence and halfway through it, Ben spoke again. _

_"Changing your hair, are we?"_

_"It's been a while," she had answered with a small smile and he had nodded knowingly._

_"It suits you," he had mumbled after completing the task, planting a kiss on her shoulder and sensing warmth spread from his face down to his neck._

_"Thank you," she had looked over her shoulder and replied in a quiet tone, her own face blushing too. "Have you already packed?"_

_"Yes, considering that I don't have much to take with me to begin with."_

_"Good. We're leaving this morning."_

Ben spent a full minute studying how much he enjoyed her braided hair and then they had eaten in silence. He tried not to read too much into why she had changed her hair, even though, once again, he suspected he knew exactly why. There really is something compelling about endings and beginnings and Ben found himself realizing that in order to move on, sometimes one really had to dispose of their yesterdays, live their todays and hope for their tomorrows, though he knew that the latter echoed much more with Rey than himself. Perhaps that was a proper definition for the journey they were about to embark on.

Rey looked deep in thought, her eyes too fixed for her to be simply interested in their food. He watched her in silence and tried not to be insensitive about what the implications of their departure meant – even though he could not be more enthusiastic about the prospect of leaving the Resistance and embarking on a journey all alone with Rey, he knew it was not that simple for her. The reasons behind her decision were completely understandable, yet the consequences were not so easy to digest, which is why he refrained from saying anything and only opened his mouth again when she announced she was going to break the news to Dameron and FN 2187.

_"Do you want me to come?"_

_"No," she had answered, shaking her head. "Would you mind taking my stuff to the Falcon, though?"_

_"Sure," he had replied, probably looking a bit surprised because Rey immediately added._

_"Is it okay if we take the Falcon, right? I mean, it was Han's, so it means it's yours now, and it's not like anyone else is using and I figured it's big enough, fast enough and I know how to fly it, fix it and…"_

_"Rey, it's _fine_," he had interrupted her babbling by raising his hand and Rey had exhaled deeply, her face flushed and relieved. "I was just surprised, that's all. We can take the Falcon. And by the way, it's yours, not mine."_

_"It is yours, but we don't have time to argue about that right now, Ben," Rey had stood up, her face almost shining with her usual aura of stubbornness, eagerness and fierce determination. He once again had the impression that he was watching the blazing sunset. "I will meet you soon."_

_"In two days?" he had teased her with casual indifference, and she had cracked a welcome smile._

_"There's still time for me to change my mind and decide you can't come."_

Rey's eyes sparkled mischievously and she had left the tent while he gaped at her sleeping bag and wondered if he had ever met someone like her. The thought was ridiculous, of course, because both the people he knew and the people _he did not_ could not even begin to rival what she was, _who_ she was, how beautiful she was. Every now and then, he found himself doing that, replaying their interactions just so he could bask in the feeling that she had seen something in _him_ of all people in that entire galaxy. He doubted he could ever grow tired of that enticing feeling, of examining his own unspeakable luck that Rey had chosen _him_. Smiling at himself, Ben refocused his attention on staring at Rey's belongings.

She was travelling light, not quite like him, but light all the same. Her belongings included eight items: two lightsabers, a blaster, a pocketknife, a flashlight, a bottle, her knapsack and her quarterstaff. He had always deemed Rey extremely practical, he had to give her that, and her stuff mirrored the extent of her pragmatism, even if he suspected that none of them quite knew where they were headed to. In the last two days, he had often found himself contemplating where exactly they were going to, and each idea was as ludicrous as the next. In the end, however, he had decided it did not really matter, not the slightest. As he had already figured out, any place in that entire galaxy was exactly where he was supposed to be as long as Rey was there with him.

Ben packed everything inside the knapsack but the quarterstaff, perhaps handling the lightsabers more sloppily than everything else, and then exited the tent with both his and Rey's knapsacks on his back, quarterstaff in hand. One of the good things about their tent being far from everyone else's was that the inflow of the people on the surrounding area was much smaller and usually there really was no one around. However, it seemed as though that was not particularly true that morning because Ben's eyes met the whatersname who brought them food as soon as he exited the tent. She was not alone, though. C-3PO was there with her too.

Cursing under his breath, Ben decided to pretend he had not seen the duo and made his way to the place where the Millennium Falcon was being kept as silently and inconspicuously as he could. Nonetheless, being significantly much taller than everyone else _and_ a prisoner, he had not given more than five steps when the unwelcome pair rushed to meet him.

"Oh, Master Ben, how wonderful to see you again!"

"Hi, '3PO," he muttered with a blank expression, trying to turn on his heels, but the whatersname spoke, her eyes narrowed.

"You're not allowed to leave," she stepped forward and he raised one eyebrow in a patronizing way, examining the diminutive woman from head to toe and conveying how non-threatened he felt by her presence.

"I am just following Rey's lead. If you have a problem, I'm sure she will be _happy_ to discuss it with you."

Curling his lips in a disdainful smile, Ben turned around and ignored the whatersname's stunned expression. A minute later, he heard her footsteps behind him and he found himself lowering his gaze in order to stare at her a second time with mild indifference.

"Where are you going?"

"That's not your business. I am simply to take Rey's stuff to the Falcon and wait."

Another stunned silence. Ben turned around once again and managed to give just another five steps forward when her voice interrupted him another time. He found himself cursing the situation yet again and sighing heavily. Did she really have to take such theatrical pauses to catch her thoughts and find the words? Couldn't she simply either leave him alone or blurt out everything at once? Stars, those Resistance people were really tiresome with their dramatic behavior.

"Why so suddenly?" the woman asked with a hint of disappointment and hesitation.

"Miss Rose, I believe it is called abscond, when people leave hurriedly or secretly because they do not want to draw any attention. Is that not the case, Master Ben?"

So that was the whatersname's name! Rose. He really had suspected that it had something to do with flowers or plants or vegetation in some way.

"There you go, C-3PO," Ben confirmed in a mumbled tone, slightly impressed at the droid's assessment. He had forgotten how irritatingly amusing _and_ knowledgeable C-3PO could be. "Rey delegated me a mission and you are interfering with it. She is right now in the process of breaking the news to her moronic friends, so you might want to hurry up in case you wish to witness their pointless and dramatic rant firsthand."

_Former_ whatersname Rose glowered at his remark before turning on her heels and going to the opposite direction. Curling his lips once again, Ben watched her retreating figure with relief that he had rid himself of her interruptions but then realized begrudgingly that he would _kind of_ miss the cooking skills of that marginally less annoying Resistance member. Perhaps the only thing he would _kind of_ miss in that entire place, on a second thought.

"Master Ben, do you need any assistance? Shall I get BB-8 to assist you with the Falcon?"

"There is no need, '3PO, thank you," he responded, resuming his path to his destination. Much to his exasperation, C-3PO went after him. At that pace, he and Rey would probably arrive at the Falcon at the same time, though there was apparently a slight chance that she would already be there when he arrived.

"I am absolutely delighted to see you again, Sir," the droid declared pompously and with enthusiasm, his legs sauntering after Ben, who merely closed his eyes for a moment and sighed heavily. "I believe it has been… well, now that my memory has been partially restored, I am not really sure how many years it has been since last time we spoke, Sir."

"Seven years, '3PO."

"That many? Oh dear. It feels like it was yesterday that I was running after you, Master Ben."

It was not as if Ben did not like C-3PO, but it was not like he was eager for the droid's company either. For so many years, the droid had been his only daily companion besides his own omnipresent feeling of loneliness and neglect. C-3PO was very enthusiastic, perhaps too proper and talkative for Ben's taste, but his intentions were good, if one actually considered droids capable of having intentions instead of merely acting according to their programming. Still, Ben had been intentionally evading the droid not because he dreaded the outpour of memories his presence was going to evoke, but because C-3PO would want to _talk_ about them, about a person Ben knew he no longer was. Judging by those few words they had just exchanged, that was precisely the case.

The fact that Kylo Ren was no more did not mean that Ben Solo was the same person he had always been. He doubted he would ever be that person even if he looked like him or went by that name again. Those were just shells, carapaces, weren't them? The name, the body. They were nothing, not really. What really mattered was beneath all of that, away from everyone's curious eyes and preconceived thoughts, in a place that Ben had tried so hard to suppress and hide. Well, maybe not away from _everyone_, definitely not away from Rey. But she was different, though. She was not everyone else. She _got_ him, she was the only person in that entire galaxy who knew who he was, who knew what hid beneath what everyone else saw. She knew _it_. She knew that he was not the Ben Solo that C-3PO had taken care of or the Ben Solo that C-3PO had run after. He was not the Ben Solo that had once turned C-3PO in a sort of canvas…

_"'PO, stop moving and don't open your eyes, I'm almost done."_

_"Master Ben, what exactly are you doing?"_

_"Dwawing!"_

_"Oh dear, why exactly did I agree with this absurdity?"_

_"Cause you're my fwiend, 'PO!"_

_"Sir, I don't believe it is customary for friends to use each other as experiments."_

_"Shhh, 'PO, I'm almost done."_

_"Master Ben, please tell me that you did not use permanent ink. Sir? Sir? Master Ben?"_

Ben wondered if the past would always be there tugging at the hem of his sleeves, maybe rushing like a wild breeze over the top of his head. It was so curious how the memory lane could be so soothing and terrifying at the same time. Memories, as it turned out, were curious little things: one could bend, touch them, turn them around, peer at them over and over from every possible angle and corner, and there was still a chance to find one edge that could cut them.

Up until the day _everything_ had changed, Ben had considered both the past and the future to be illusions because after all, they only existed in the present. That concept seemed part of an alternate reality because Ben had the impression that these days were dedicated to recollecting the past. With each breath, the past only grew larger behind his back. Often times it felt like a labyrinth – panic surged through his brain and reached every corner of his body as bouts of misery, pain, regret, embarrassment and guilt crashed repeatedly, his head throbbing painfully as it travelled through a whirlwind of memories. Sometimes, though, he found himself reliving the past quietly, almost under the shadows, just glimpsing at it through a thick fog and examining the soft silhouettes of the memories, glancing at some angles that he thought he had forgotten about.

Time and space went by on the outside, yet Ben suspected he was living mostly on the inside nowadays. And it was so curious how much he both dreaded and cherished them, the memories, sometimes even experiencing these very paradoxical feelings upon examining the same recollection. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that some memories spoke through his mind whereas others came through his heart. Or perhaps it was because in the end, memories were nothing but alibis or witnesses to one's conscious, patched remembrances stuffed with feelings and meanings that one could never fully comprehend. Regardless of the reason, one thing was sure: Ben knew he was not the same person who had _lived_ the memories he now got to _relive_ these days.

And now Ben found himself on the verge of such a foreign concept as he glanced upon the future, those tomorrows whose smallest of glimpses seemed to make up for a lifetime of yesterdays.

Ben could now see the Millennium Falcon peeking between the trees, standing in the middle of a glade. C-3PO had spent the entire time talking and reminiscing loudly while Ben replied to it with an occasional grunt or nod, his mind partially drifting to all of those memories mentioned by the droid. Ben creating a crown of flowers and making C-3PO wear it during one of the festivals his Mom had taken them to. Ben learning different languages and practicing them with the droid. Ben convincing C-3PO to take him to the Senate so he could surprise his Mom in the middle of work. Ben training while the droid complimented his skill and uttered words that Ben had never heard anyone use before. And many, many other memories described by the droid as they approached the Millennium Falcon, some of them that Ben had honestly forgotten about and that even with the droid's detailed description looked more like broken pieces of glass seen through a shimmery veil.

"Master Ben, I do apologize for my blathering. I am simply marveled that you are with us again, even if you are about to leave with Master Rey."

"It's fine, '3PO," Ben responded, shaking his head dismissively. "I know it's-"

But whatever Ben knew never left his mouth for his eyes had just landed on a figure standing close to the Millennium Falcon, a tall and menacing-looking creature carrying a bowcast, his wary eyes staring at Ben Solo and C-3PO in silence.

"Oh dear."

Once again, C-3PO was displaying his talent for being irritatingly precise in anything he said and nothing else could have summarized that situation better than _oh dear_. Ben stalled, his hands closing at once around the quarterstaff. Chewbacca kept studying both of them in silence while C-3PO's face went from one to another, his bulged eyes looking even more panic-stricken than ever.

"C-3PO, I will have to ask you to leave us."

The words had come out before Ben even realized what he was doing. He locked eyes with Chewbacca, the Wookie's face absolutely unreadable. Ben's mind drifted to not so long before, to the day when Rey had thought she had killed Chewbacca when in fact he had been made a prisoner of the First Order. Ben remembered being brought to the Wookie's cell and watching his imprisoned though still very dangerous-looking figure hanging by chains, a collar around his neck to keep him in place. He remembered the way Chewbacca had watched him quietly that day. Unlike when Ben had killed his Dad, there was no anger or absolute despair to the Wookie's features, there were no screams and grunts or any shadow of any reaction whatsoever, and Ben would honestly have preferred if there were. Instead, there was _disappointment_ and that silent reaction had resonated so loudly, so deafening unbearable to Ben that he had immediately left Chewbacca's cell, unable of staying there for a minute longer.

He was not really sure why he was doing that, but there was something about the way that Chewbacca was watching him in that very moment and standing protectively in front of the Millennium Falcon that made him know that he _had_ to do that. Ben had once been at the other end of the Wookie's bowcast and even though he knew fairly well how agonizingly painful that had been, he suspected that it was different this time. There were other ways of inflicting pain besides shooting someone and the way he had been looked upon by Chewbacca that last time was proof enough.

"Master Ben, that seems awfully imprudent."

"Go find Rey. I am going to be fine."

"But Sir…"

"That's an order, C-3PO. I know you are still bound to obey me."

C-3PO watched him indignantly, opened and closed his mouth three times in obvious scandal before finally acquiescing under Ben's unyielding gaze. When the droid finally left in a mix of walking at a glacial pace to ensure hell did not break loose and hurrying up to find Rey to ensure hell did not break loose, the silence became deep and impenetrable, though broken occasionally by the sound of the wind blowing over the leaves and the cricketing and chirping noises that Ben had grown used to. Ben remained still, his hands holding the quarterstaff and his eyes so transfixed at watching his Dad's old buddy that he suddenly felt transported to a different world.

Memories were there once again, meandering through his mind, enveloping his entire body in that eerie feeling of contemplation. The way that Chewbacca was looking at him in that very moment was the absolute proof that he was not who he used to be, especially and most importantly that he was not the Ben Solo that the Wookie had known for so long.

_"Come on, Chewie, how did you meet Unca Wanwo? I wanna know!"_

_Ben was five years old, sitting cross-legged on the floor and watching Chewbacca with anxiety. His Dad had arrived just the day before, Chewbacca in tow, and was currently having some heated argument with his Mom that Ben had overheard just before C-3PO urged him to go downstairs and play with the trinkets Han had brought him. Begrudgingly, Ben had acquiesced and stomped downstairs, his full lips forming a large pout, tears in his eyes. Chewbacca had grunted upon the sight of Ben's downcast demeanor and snatched him in his arms, holding the little kid above his head as if he was a ship flying across the sky._

_The little boy had giggled and shrieked enthusiastically while C-3PO twisted his hands and fidgeted in place in clear exasperation at how dangerous that looked, muttering long and complicated words to himself. After eight minutes in which the droid had almost collapsed with anxiety, Chewie had placed Ben on the floor and sat in front of him looking very pleased with himself for cheering the little boy up. C-3PO had left the two of them alone, muttering to himself something that sounded a lot like "no regard for the well-being of a five-year old"._

_"I wanna know, Chewie!", Ben had insisted as he began braiding the Wookie's hair, his face still flushed, but his eyes now sparkling mischievously as it always did whenever he braided Chewie's hair. _

_Chewie had grunted an answer and Ben's brows creased in confusion. He stopped moving his hands; the answer had not pleased him._

_"A game? Dadda was playing a game with Unca Wanwo?"_

_The Wookie grunted another time and then Ben started giggling, holding the half-done braid in his left hand._

_"Unca Wanwo bet the Falcon? That's just silly," he laughed once again, resuming his hairdressing routine. When he finally finished, he let go of Chewie and sat down in front of the Wookie looking much happier than before, adding, "So that's how Dadda got the Falcon?"_

_Chewie smiled and nodded, but almost immediately his face dropped upon seeing the way Ben's eyes watered all of a sudden, his little fists balling on his lap and a pout taking over his face again._

_"Dadda doesn't want me to come with you. He doesn't want me in the Falcon again."_

_Chewie shook his head vehemently and gestured to the stairs, grunting and grumbling._

_"I don't know, Chewie. I don't think so…"_

_Chewbacca grunted, then smiled and nodded cheerfully, grunting for another full minute and ruffling Ben's hair. Ben tried to escape his grasp with a yelp, but it was only half-heartedly because the truth was that he really liked when Chewie did that. Everyone seemed to think that Chewbacca was a dangerous and violent beast. But not Ben. He knew there was absolutely no one sweeter and kinder than Chewie, he knew that no matter how big and intimidating Chewie looked, he could always rely on that Wookie to ruffle his hair and make him feel better about anything in that entire galaxy. _

_Ben dried his eyes with the back of his hand and smiled wanly at the Wookie, hugging him tightly._

_"You're my friend too, Chewie."_

That memory had happened so many years ago and it felt as though it belonged to a different person. Ben had by now forgotten how many times Chewbacca had ruffled his hair and made him feel better about Han's absence. He had now forgotten how many times the two of them had played together while Han and Leia argued. He had forgotten how many times Ben had begged Chewie to share the tales about his old family and home planet and wondered if one day he could meet them. He had forgotten how many times he had braided Chewie's hair and beard. Nonetheless, he knew he could not truly forget the way those blue eyes had always looked at him so fondly, so caringly. There was something about having such a menacing-looking creature treat you so kindly and then have that same creature look at you with anger, resentment, fear and, ultimately, disappointment.

In that very moment, however, there was none of that in Chewbacca's blue eyes. They were watching Ben as if it was the first time he was really seeing him in a very long time.

"Hey there, Chewie."

X

**A/N:** thank you everyone who followed, favorited and reviewed last chapter. It made me so happy to read your comments and see that you think so highly of this story, which is obviously very dear to me. Thank you biologia, Publius1788, Jw81, lingering,memories, redridinghood101, AraelDranoth, maushaushase and ToughSpirit for your kind words. It is really touching to see the reactions to my portrayal of Ben. It is tough yet so fun to write him – he's by far my favorite SW character and writing him pushes me so much as a writer, especially figuring out these little things about the character. This is actually why this chapter took a bit longer to be posted. As we move forward, Ben is still fighting so much but he's growing at the same time, so balancing conflict and growth is quite daunting. Anyway, I am very sorry about this little cliffhanger. I am also curious to see what you guys think is going to come next. Please let me know your thoughts.


	9. Nine

_"And once the storm is over, you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what this storm's all about." ― Haruki Murakami_

X

Ben had convinced himself many years before of how much he absolutely loathed the rain. The way it drenched in his boots and doused his feet in cold and wetness, the feeling of the raindrops soaking his hair then running down his neck and drenching in his clothes, the greyish tone of the clouds, the annoying sound of the raindrops against everything it touched, the boredom of moping around until the rain passed away – how could one like such an uncomfortable experience? He failed to see the appeal of such events and had come to associate rain with an aggravating feeling of exasperation and anger. It had not always been that way, though.

For most of his life, rainy days meant peacefulness, rawness, feeling truly and irrevocably connected to himself and sorting out his clouded and shadowy thoughts in spite of how clouded and greyish the sky looked outside. He had craved for rainy days just so he could bask in the feeling of the raindrops hitting his head and washing everything away as they slid down from his face to his entire body. Watching the rain fall down the sky and envelop everything in that eerie iridescence, listening to its soft and quiet tunes which suddenly became harder and more violent, seeing the way it joined the sky and the earth… All of that had always spoken in some very intimate way to Ben that perhaps that was the reason he had come to hate it so strongly after that particular day many years before.

_"Hey kid."_

_"Dad," Ben mumbled avoiding his Dad's eyes and allowing himself to be hugged, his body motionless, distant, stoic. "Hey there, Chewie," he added after Han let go of him and he saw the Wookie behind his back._

_"You look so big, son," Han muttered, scratching his own chin and grinning smugly, clearly noticing how much his son resembled his younger self. "How's Jedi training?"_

_"It's fine," Ben mumbled to himself, fists clenched like it was his second nature, his eyes watching through the window and taking notice of how the sky was morphing from a pale blue to a grey backdrop as the dark clouds started approaching._

_"Learned something cool?" Han carried on nonchalantly, leaning against the balcony and fidgeting with a glass bottle. With an aloof demeanor, Ben stretched his arm and summoned the bottle, which flew to his hand like an arrow. "Impressive, kid."_

_"How long are you staying?" Ben asked, clutching the bottle in his hand, jaw clenched._

_"Mind controlling stuff always seemed very useful to me. Much more than brandishing a glowing sword," Han ignored the question, chuckling and shrugging, hands on his hips._

_"How long are you staying?" Ben repeated, louder this time._

_"Ben, can we not do this now?"_

_"No, we can't," he answered in a clipped tone._

_"I have missed you, son."_

_"Bullshit."_

_"Son, you don't kno-"_

_"Why do you bother coming home if you are not going to stay anyway?" Ben snarled very quickly, flaring his nostrils, the bottle still firm on his hand as he tried to contain the angry waves that were threatening to send jolts to every corner of his body._

_"Ben, we have already talked ab-"_

_"Just admit it, Dad. Just admit it that you don't give a fuck about me!"_

_Ben threw the bottle across the room and it smashed into smithereens on the opposite wall. Chewie roared and stepped back, wide-eyed, while Han opened his mouth and stepped forward, trying to hold Ben in place and gripping his son by the shoulders to keep him still. Ben pushed his hands away and stepped back, rubbing his own hands over his increasingly flushed expression, his face livid, his entire body trembling violently after his outburst._

_"Ben-"_

_"Stop fucking pretending that you give a fuck, Dad! Why do you bother coming back? Why do you keep putting on this act that you know how to be a father?"_

_It looked as though Han had taken a punch to his gut. He paled, his eyes widened in absolute dismay at his son's words and Chewie even stopped blinking, his blue eyes filled with anxiety and hesitation. Ben kept pacing desperately in front of them, his body quivering violently as he inhaled and exhaled out of rhythm, fists clenched to his side once again. His mind was so clouded, his throat hurt as he tried to find the words and not choke on the wave of overwhelmingness that threatened to splutter through his mouth. Dark crept in, he could feel its tangles searching for his body in the shadows…_

_"You think you can come home after two months, waltz in here for two, three fucking days at most, try to buy me with your incredible adventures and unique trinkets and everything is going to be just fine? Nothing is fine, Dad! NOTHING! You and Mom think you can be normal, ordinary and pretend that you know how to be a family! But there's no such thing as ordinary or normal when it comes to the great Han Solo and the incomparable Leia Organa! Just stop fucking pretending that you give a fuck about me! You have never, not for one day!"_

_"Ben, you are going too far! I love you, son, your Mom loves you!"_

_"I DON'T CARE! I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU SAY! You two make me sick! You don't know what it feels like, Dad! And more than that, YOU DON'T FUCKING CARE!" Ben yelled, turning around and smashing both of his hands on the wall as an awful feeling began crawling up his throat, digging through his chest, flowing through his veins like poison..._

_The sound reverberated through the room and then silence fell, deep, impenetrable. Ben's features were twisted angrily, each line delineated with such anguish and wrath that he looked like an echo of himself, a carved out and dark mask of himself._

_"Ben, I care! My not being here has absolutely nothing to do to you, son!"_

_"Bullshit! I know that both of you are scared of me! I know none of you really trust me! I know you dumped me with Uncle Luke hoping that he could turn me into something else, hoping that he would find a way, HOPING THAT HE WOULD FIX ME! But guess what? There is nothing wrong about me! NOTHING! The only thing wrong about me is how both of you don't give a fuck about me!"_

_Han swallowed hard at his son's booming voice, his face growing pale by the second, his eyes widened in absolute fear and despair. He opened his mouth once, twice, thrice, hands on his hips and then covering his mouth and scratching his head, the words completely failing him. He turned around, his eyes vague, and then turned again to face his son. Ben's chest kept going up and down without a pace, his face reddened, and his eyes filled with angry tears, his fists balled to his side as he tried to ignore the aching feeling in his hands, the throbbing sensation that made them feel like they were laced with fire._

_"You should not bother coming here. It makes no difference, Dad. Tolerating your absence is much easier than suffering with your presence."_

_"Ben, listen to me, son. You are going too far. I understand how you feel-"_

_"NO, YOU DON'T!" _

_"Ben, you have no idea how much I crave for being home, coming back home! That is all I can think about whenever I leave, this is the best part of any of my adventures, coming back home to you, to your Mom!"_

_"THEN WHY DO YOU FUCKING LEAVE?!"_

_"Ben, son, you have to underst-"_

_"I am tired of having to do everything!"_

_"Ben-"_

_"SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP! I don't believe anything you say, Dad! It is too easy for you to stand there and say something nice right now when it was not you who spent your entire life with only a fucking droid for company while your parents were living up to their grand reputations and feats! It's not you who spent his life counting the days until his Dad was finally back home!" Ben yelled, pointing a finger at his Dad, eyes squinted and his entire face flushed, twisted in anger and agony and desperation and countless other nameless feelings. "It was not you who learned that your own parents were afraid of you for something you couldn't even understand, something you still can't understand! You have no idea how lonely I've felt! You have no idea how awful I've felt! You have no idea how many times I wished something bad happened during your adventures so that you could come home and stay here, how I wished sometimes you were incapacitated or almost killed so you wouldn't leave anymore!"_

_Han's eyes widened another time, mouth hanging open in absolute shock and then Ben started laughing, an uncontrollable and humorless laughter that ran cold as a knife through the air and made everything seem darker, emptier, lonelier. His face grew even duskier, so twisted now with angry emotions that Han found himself stepping back, unable of watching that terrifying sight._

_"You think I'm evil? Is this the so-called Dark side you and Mom dread about me?"_

_Ben cupped his mouth to cover his wicked laughter at the silent confirmation in his Dad's eyes, a maniacal expression now touching every corner of his face and making his old self seem more of an afterthought, a forgotten memory. His eyes were burning so hard, it was so difficult now to keep the tears away, he had forgotten how to breathe, how to move, how to think... Perhaps even his heart had forgotten how to beat…_

_"That's not you speaking, Ben. My son would never-"_

_"Your son is what you made of him! YOU made me this way!"_

_"Ben, please, listen to me," Han tried to hold Ben by the left elbow, his eyes glistening now, but he snatched his arm away, hastily, his face looking hardened and disgusted by the sight of his Dad. _

_"Leave me alone, Dad. Just leave me alone. I can't even look at you right now."_

_With that, Ben stormed off the room and ran outside where he was immediately received by a shower of the cold rain that was now falling freely from the sky and covering everything in that pale aura of eeriness. Ben sat down on the ground and closed his burning eyes, his tears now mixing with the raindrops and running down his face. He felt so angry, so frustrated, so overwhelmed, so absolutely disgusted and revolted and brokenhearted by that entire situation that he did not even have it in him to do something besides close his eyes and allow the tears to stream down his face while the cold rain drenched his entire body until he was soaking wet, his matted hair dousing around his head, until he felt empty, devoid of any emotion but darkness, until every single emotion he had ever felt seemed feeble and insignificant compared to the absolute emptiness lodged inside his chest._

_He realized immediately how much he fucking hated when it rained._

_A quiet grunt shook Ben away from his turmoil and he looked to his left where he met Chewie._

_"Hey there, Chewie."_

_Chewbacca sat beside him and Ben bent his legs, hugging his knees and allowing the rain to envelop him until he felt as if it had penetrated down to his every bone. The Wookie draped an arm around him, and Ben's body started trembling as he choke on his tears, hiccupping, feeling as if each tear took every strength left to him, the emptiness now becoming simply too unbearable for him to think of something as simple as existing._

_"Please don't defend him, Chewie. I am tired of everyone excusing their behaviors."_

_The Wookie growled and Ben let go of his knees, turning to the side to watch the creature._

_"If he really missed me, he wouldn't leave in the first place, Chewie."_

_Chewie shook his head, grunting and gesticulating to the house. _

_"I need him too, Chewie, I need a Dad, not someone who calls himself my father just because he happened to be there when I was born!"_

_Another grunt and Ben's glare melted off his face, the tears coming down slower now. He sniffed and then leaned on Chewie's shoulder._

_"And I do too. But I am sick of missing them. I spend more time missing them than actually being with them. Sometimes I wonder if who I love even exists in the real world."_

_The Wookie ruffled through his hair and draped an arm around Ben again, hugging him._

_"You are my friend too, Chewie. I just miss my Mom and Dad..."_

Ben looked up the sky and found it fitting yet ironic that the rain was starting to fall slowly above their heads. Sometimes he found himself both marveling at and despising the curious symmetry of something as vast as the universe and that happened to be one of those situations. He glanced at Chewbacca's blank expression and stepped towards the Millennium Falcon, taking the opportunity to throw his and Rey's belongings in there, aware that it was perhaps smart and foolish in equal measures to deprive himself of her quarterstaff.

It happened too fast. In one moment, he was approaching Chewbacca and in the next, the Wookie had snatched him by the collar of his shirt, pulling his body violently towards his furry figure. He roared, a thunderous roar that pierced Ben's ears and he smelled his acrid breath, droplets of saliva splattering his face. Everything seemed even more quiet after that guttural growl as if the surroundings themselves were waiting for the aftermath of that confrontation, as if the drops of rain had stopped falling and the cold wind had stopped blowing because they were waiting to see what was coming next. Ben's arms hang clumsily to his side, his legs floating midair as Chewie raised him until they were staring at each other's eyes.

Chewie's blue eyes did not look wary or disappointed or blank anymore. Instead, they were filled with raw anger, wrath, making him look much more animalesque than ever before. It finally dawned upon Ben why everyone had always dreaded that creature and he grasped the concept that in spite of the sweetness and kindness that Chewbacca had always saved for him, he _was_ a wild beast.

He could feel Chewbacca's resentment, his hatred and a plethora of other hideous feelings he knew he was worthy of but had never once suspected would emanate from Chewie. He shook Ben violently once, twice, thrice, and even though Ben could sense his insides scream in protest, he kept quiet, waiting, watching…

The Wookie roared once again and another time and another time. Ben kept listening to him, his eyes never once leaving his face, his body hanging unemotionally as though he was a broken doll. The next second, Chewbacca tossed him carelessly on the ground and Ben bounced, landing spectacularly on his ass some ten feet away from Chewbacca. He came to Ben's direction, sauntering, and pushed him to the ground with a ferocious shove, then proceeded to pound his hands on the ground, each of the punches landing inches from Ben's sides as he smashed the muddy soil once, two, three, six, nine times, screaming and roaring, growling with pain and anger and a myriad of other feelings, showering Ben with mud, soil and water.

Before he could catch his breath and allow himself to feel the sharp pain spreading through his entire body, the Wookie had seized him brutally once again by the collar of his shirt and Ben watched him with defeat and resignation, knowing far too well that he deserved that outrage, perhaps even something more extreme, more hurtful. Chewie hollered once more, shook Ben's body for what felt like an entire minute as the drops of rain started picking up pace now and mixed with another set of droplets of saliva, Ben's façade never once wavering, never once faltering.

He watched and waited, inhaling and exhaling once, twice, five, nine times.

And then, Chewbacca let go of him, dropping him by the collar this time so Ben simply landed on his feet, staggering backwards to keep his balance as the pain became more pronounced now. Ben held his matted and dirty head down, waiting, knowing that Chewbacca was not done with him just yet, feeling that that could not be it, that there had to be something more violent, knowing that there had to be something more brutal, painful and gut-wrenching coming his way, something that he really deserved.

He was wrong. He was so, so wrong. Was he always wrong? Yes, he most certainly was. Because, this time, the sudden pull that snatched his body was not violent. Though raw in nature, it was kind, tender and Ben found himself hugging Chewbacca as if life depended on it, clinging to his furry figure and burying his disheveled head on his chest, that entangled mess of fur, as he had always done when he was a kid, when all he needed was comfort and someone who cared about him. Ben squeezed his eyes shut and embraced his old friend, his Dad's old buddy, waves of shame, embarrassment, guilt and regret washing over him, constricting his chest, dilacerating his very core.

Chewbacca held him the same way he had always held, and Ben felt the same way he had always felt. It was as if time had not passed, as if they were once again at their old backyard or living room or wherever Ben had run to after yet another episode with his Dad in one of those days he had had a break from Jedi Training and come back home. However, though similar in sight, the differences were there, not any subtle, far from imperceptible, definitely much there. They were no longer back home. Han was no longer around. Ben was no longer a kid. Ben was no longer an apprentice. Ben was no longer the same young man. And yet, in spite all of this, in spite of his unworthiness, his monstrosities and the ruin he had brought upon all of them, Chewbacca held him just the same.

The tears were once again mixing with the raindrops and Ben felt so thankful that no one could see him now. He thought he no longer had it in him to cry after grieving his Mom, but he was wrong. He was so, so wrong! Stars, how many times could someone be that wrong? How many times had he been wrong? How many more times would he think he had all the answers when most certainly he knew _nothing_? He had never had any answers and the illusion of having them, of thinking he just knew what he had to do, that had been precisely his downfall. Kylo Ren thought, convinced himself he had all the answers, but everyone had seen past him, everyone had seen his weakness, his uncertainty, his lack of strength. He had smothered those second guesses with impulsive decisions, deceived himself into thinking he had the answers and that he was right, resorted to desperate measures and the Dark hoping to prove his strength, his resolution, his unwavering determination.

He had been so wrong. And one of those episodes had resulted in him killing his Dad.

Ben still remembered it, sometimes as if it had happened yesterday, sometimes as if it was part of another life, of someone else's life. He remembered how steady his hands had felt even though he also felt as if he was watching that scene unfold from above. His entire body had felt as if it belonged to someone else, but not his hands. They remained ever so steady, never once wavering, never once faltering…

It had split him to the bone, broken him to the core, displaced his soul from his body and cast himself into a dark and cold place he thought he would never leave, like he would never feel whole again, like he would never feel _anything_ ever again but pain, like he would never feel _anything_ ever again…

As he clung to Chewie, though, the tears travelled down his face.

He lacked the words to talk about that, though. With Rey, all she had to do was be with him because their bond spoke louder and clearer than any existing language. He did not need to say anything, he did not need to scramble around and find the words, he did not need to peer into his own mind, his conscious, and transform those blurs, specs, shapes and patches into rock-solid words. What exactly would he say? What exactly did he want to convey? That he was sorry? That he regretted everything he had done? That he wanted to beg for forgiveness? That he wished he could go back in time and undo everything? How could he explain the unexplainable? How could he justify the unjustifiable? Words, once again, fell short of _anything_.

But that, that very moment… That was much harder than anything else. Chewbacca had known him his entire life, had known his Mom and Dad for so, so many years. He had witnessed so much of Ben's life even if he had been there only when his Dad came back home. Nonetheless, he had witnessed the beginning of the end, Ben's pull to the Dark side and then his descend into darkness when he had finally killed his Dad. He had witnessed the transformation of Ben Solo into Kylo Ren, from a scared and insecure boy to a troubled and confused teenager and then to a monstrous and murderous young man.

Ben felt as if he was forced to look at himself into a mirror, a mirror that did not show his true self, but rather every single deed he had ever carried out, a parade of wrong choices and mistakes, a procession of every dream he had destroyed, every hope he had torn apart, every life he had broken. It did not matter that he had turned. It did not matter than he had finally resorted to the Light that still burned inside him. It did not matter that his Dad had forgiven him. He owed something to Chewie. But what? An excuse? An apology? A confession? A promise?

Before he could figure out what exactly he had to do, the world got colder as Chewbacca let go of him. Ben lowered his eyes to the ground, not even bothering to dry the tears because he could not tell them apart from the raindrops anymore. Chewbacca's blue eyes followed his movements when Ben Solo sat down beside him, legs bent and hugging his knees, his brown eyes staring at something in front of him, the quiet rain still falling but now much more slowly, almost musically above their heads. They remained quiet for a full minute, but maybe also an entire day or even an entire season until Ben felt his mouth open and the words start escaping as if he had always waited for that moment even if he did not know what to say.

"Yes, it's me, Chewie. It's Ben."

Chewbacca tilted his head to the side and grunted quietly.

"I've missed you too."

Ben exhaled heavily, jaw trembling, arms around his leg as Chewie grunted another time.

"I don't know why I did it, Chewie."

Was there any dignity into admitting that? He doubted there was, yet it was also the inexorable truth. Rey had once asked him why he had done it, assumed it was because he hated his Dad and Ben had denied it. _That_ was the truth, because no matter how hard he tried to, no matter the countless and endless reasons he had to loathe his Dad, hate him for his neglect and abandonment and everything Han Solo represented, Ben could not really bring himself to truly and unequivocally hate Han. It was much easier than hating his Mom, he knew it was, and yet he knew deep in his heart he did not. In the midst of numberless reasons and memories to do so, a small flame burned quietly, a flame that often times had looked much more like a mirage, a trick of the light.

And yet, he had killed him. He had killed him for nothing, he had killed him for things that did not even matter anymore, things that hardly had mattered before. Power? Strength? Proving himself? Bravery? All it had accomplished was to prove how weak, empty, worthless and a coward he was.

He had expected everything to change afterwards. And that time, he was right. Everything _did_ change. Nonetheless, he was also wrong, he was so, so wrong. It had changed, yes, it had changed _everything_ – but not quite as he had expected. Truth really does set one free but the cost to that freedom would haunt him forever.

Another quiet grumble and Ben could sense his eyes stinging even more, the rain slowly and persistently pouring over their bodies and soaking his hair, dripping down his neck and drenching in his clothes. His heart was beating quietly inside his chest, yet he could feel something pressing his ribcage, something heavy and monstrous that burned, ached, hurt, something that felt oddly familiar but awfully painful at the same time.

That is the thing with pain when you get used to it, when suffering becomes sort of one's natural state, when hurting brings a strange comfort to one's heart, when feeling the pain hurts and aches and throbs and burns but soothes, lulls, eases and softens too. The solace that he needed for the words to come out, the quiet and comfortable sight of the pain, a silent consolation to a broken man.

"I got lost… so, so lost. I lost my way back home…"

The only sound now came from the raindrops crashing once again unrelentingly against the Millennium Falcon, falling off the leaves and puddling around them. Chewbacca looked even more disheveled, his fur looking like a messy, entangled coat wilted around his monstrous figure. Ben hugged his knees even more, his mind racing inside his head as he desperately clung to himself almost as if he wanted to disappear in his own embrace. But now that he had started talking, the words would not stop, even if they made no sense anymore. Perhaps they would never make any sense…

"I felt so lonely, so alone, so lost… And it seemed to be the only way. I felt so weak and I thought it would give me the strength, the power. I t-thought it was the only way, Chewie. And I h-hated m-myself for it. When I did it, I couldn't b-bear myself anymore. It made me weaker, more lost, lonelier. It… it hurt so, so much. It still does. It hurts every day."

Han had forgiven him. His Dad had forgiven him for that monstrosity, that atrociousness and yet, it hurt, it hurt so, so much. A wound that would never disappear, a scar that was no longer there, but that would always find new ways to ache, throb deeply, inconspicuously. A wound that had been closed, a scar that had healed, but that would always and forever bleed, the memories forever marked down to his very soul.

"I wish I hadn't done it. I wish he was still here. I miss him so much. I miss them so much…"

Chewie grunted and shook his head and Ben started trembling, head buried on his knees.

"Forgive me, Chewie. _Please_."

The words had come from his mouth, but they could very well had been spoken by his broken heart. Perhaps forgiveness came down to those very moments, to those situations that reeked of earnestness and rawness. Perhaps it was one of those things that blossomed quietly, spread its roots slowly, but then grew relentlessly until it finally set us free.

The agony of bearing those unspoken words was gone.

Ben knew he was the most undeserving man in the entire galaxy. He also doubted there was ever someone who felt more regret, guilt, shame and embarrassment. There is no consolation in the regret of a former monster, yet he honestly hoped there was some solace in the sincerity of a broken man.

Chewbacca draped an arm around Ben and ruffled his hair, his grunts coming much softer and kinder than ever before. Ben's mind travelled back to that memory, to that day when he was ninenteen years old and had decided how much he absolutely hated when it rained. He remembered feeling so empty, so drained as Dark crept close and he was encased in an aura of loneliness, despair, anger and a multitude of hideous feelings that seemed to be the only reality he knew. And now, in that oddly similar yet so different situation, he found himself feeling empty, drained, but no longer encased in the Dark. Light was there too as Chewbacca's forgiveness hang in the air, lingered over his body and fluttered straight to the middle of his chest, instilling him with a feeling that he would always come to associate with rain from that moment on.

Catharsis.

X

**A/N:** thank you to everyone who followed, favorited and reviewed last chapter. Once again, it made me so happy and grateful to see these lovely reviews saying this is their favorite fic right now. I mean, what else can I say but thank you all from the bottom of my heart? I am really invested in writing this story and exploring Ben's journey of self-discovery and healing, so reading these opinions is extremely encouraging. Thank you SerinidipiT, lingering,memories, ToughSpirit, maushaushase and Samantha. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

I always thought that Ben's closest ones would have a much easier time forgiving him than everyone else because they were there from the beginning so they witnessed his transformation into Kylo Ren and knew how everything happened, how hopeless and young he was. Yet, I also wanted to balance that with a more realistic approach to disappointment and anger because he truly did some horrible things. I figured Chewbacca would encompass these two sides and especially Han's side, which is basically what I wanted to portray here. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and let me know your thoughts.


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